


What Did They Aim For When They Missed Your Heart?

by Setari



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Asgard's sexist culture, Darcy Lewis is Tony Stark's Daughter, Genderfluid Loki, Lady Loki, Multi, Peter Parker is Loki's Son, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's son, Shapeshifter Loki, Sigils, Smartarse family, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-15 06:59:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 42,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5776045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setari/pseuds/Setari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By some strange quirk of biology, Starks have two soulmarks.</p>
<p>This causes more than it's fair share of problems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tony

_Hello, Mr Stark._

Tony had had those words written along the inside of his left wrist since the moment he was born. It wasn’t something he had ever thought about, it was just a part of him. Just like his mother’s ‘ _What do you wa- Well hello there._ ’ and his father’s ‘ _Oh for heaven’s sake._ ’ He took it for granted, and never really thought too hard about what, exactly, it was or what it meant.

Then he started school, and he was surrounded by other kids who were fascinated by their soulmarks. Girls would sit in giggling groups secretly showing each other their wrists which were usually covered by the usual soft leather bracelets for people who hadn’t yet met their soulmate. Boys would brag that they knew exactly how they’d meet their soulmate. Teachers had to play constant interference with persistent kids who kept trying to steal each other’s bracelets, trying to sneak a peek at each other’s soulmarks.

That was when Tony realised that the words on his wrist were _important_ , that they were how he would recognise the person who would be his equal and opposite in all things. He clung to the knowledge that there was someone out there who loved him, or would love him, when they finally met. As he became more and more aware of his father’s distance and his mother’s weariness, he held onto the meaning of his soulmark like a lifeline.

And then, when he was almost six, he woke up one morning with another set of words scrawled around his right wrist. Desperately confused, because he’d never heard of anyone having _two_ soulmarks before, he went to his father because his father was the world’s best scientist and scientists were the people who asked questions and figured things out. Maybe his father could figure this out, too.

_Excuse me, Mr Stark! I need to- I really need to speak with you-!_

When he showed his father, however, all he got was a vaguely dismissive hand wave as his father went back to his work. “That’s normal.” He said absently.

Tony scowled up at him in slightly panicked, indignant confusion. “No it’s not! No one has _two_!” But Howard wasn’t listening anymore. Feeling horribly betrayed, and like it shouldn’t surprise him anymore even though it _did_ , every time, Tony had kicked him in the shin and run to find his mother.

She, at least, had been more understanding. “Oh, sweetheart.” She’d sighed, with that tired, fond exasperation she always had whenever Tony complained about his dad. “Your father’s just bad at explaining things. It’s not normal for most people, but it is normal for Starks.” She told him, pulling him up onto her lap.

“What?” Tony questioned. “But Dad doesn’t have two.”

Maria flinched. Tony didn’t understand why, but he was distracted by her next words. “He used to. We- we both did.”

“Where did it go, then?” Tony wondered. Maria didn’t say anything for long enough that Tony started fidgeting. “Mom? If you had two soulmarks before, why do you only have one now?” He pressed. Then he saw the tears in his mother’s eyes. “What’s wrong? Mom? I’m sorry! I won’t ask again.” He babbled, not knowing exactly what he did wrong, but panicking all the same.

“No, no. It’s- it’s ok, sweetheart.” Maria assured him, smoothing a hand over his hair. “It’s just… sometimes soulmates die before you get to meet them, Tony. Sometimes, their words just disappear before you get a chance to hear them. That’s what happened to your father and me. We lost them before we met them and it-” Maria sighed. “Things have never been the same since.” She sighed, more to herself than the boy in her lap.

Tony was staring up at her in horror. “I don’t want mine to die before I meet them!” He cried. “Mom, I want to meet them now! That way I can make sure they’re safe! We could do that, right? Like Dad has all those guys watch me to make sure nothing happens, we could do that for them, too, right?!” He babbled.

Maria pulled him into a hug. “Oh, Tony, baby. It doesn’t work like that. You’re going to meet them when you meet them, and nothing’s going to change that. Not even all the wishing in the world.” She sighed.

The tantrum Tony threw that day was one of his worst, and he refused to speak to either of his parents for another week after that. Only Mr Jarvis was permitted to converse with Tony, and that was only because Mr Jarvis was being _helpful_. He told him there were clues hidden in every soulmark, that there were ways Tony could begin to look, if he wanted. He told him that if a person was born with their soulmark, it meant their soulmate had already been born. If it appeared later, that was the day their soulmate had been born.

Tony got in a lot of trouble with his father that evening for sneaking into the offices, hacking into government records and printing off the names and locations of everyone that had been born in the US over last night. Tony was furious that nobody but him and Mr Jarvis seemed to _care_ that his soulmates were out there, somewhere, _unprotected_.

Over the next year, Tony drove everyone around him up the wall with his quest to find his soulmates. After a year, however, Tony was forced to admit that his mother had been right. It was going to happen when it was going to happen, and no amount of research into handwriting styles – he was, at least, pretty sure that one of his soulmates was female, that they were both left handed, and that neither of them was going to be a doctor – or birth records was going to get him anywhere closer to meeting his soulmates.

That was the moment that Tony felt the first flicker of resentment for his soulmarks. They were so annoyingly vague. A bland hello and a ‘I need to talk to you’, which could be said by anyone, anywhere. The resentment only grew as classmate after classmate – who were now a year older than him since he’d been moved up a year – asked him why he had _two_ soulmark bracelets, if he was trying to start a new fashion or something, and he was forced to explain that he had two. Always, without fail, they would scoff, tell him to stop lying, and ask if he was just some attention hog. In the end, Tony stopped telling the truth and started lying with a cavalier grin. Yeah, it was a fashion statement. It was all about symmetry. Science had proved that humans found symmetry aesthetically pleasing.

Before long, everyone in the school was wearing matching bracelets, then everyone in New York, and then soulmark bracelets were being sold in pairs nationwide. Tony didn’t know whether to be disgusted by it – because they were all stupid sheep who had no idea – to resent it – because now he wouldn’t even get a clue if he saw someone hiding _both_ wrists – or to be relieved – at least his soulmates wouldn’t suffer the same way he had, they wouldn’t have to make up excuses for wearing two bracelets. His mother insisted it was a good thing, his father didn’t care, and Mr Jarvis thought it was rather entertaining.

Having given up on finding his soulmates, he went back to trying to win his father’s attention, and failing. He built robots, he got bumped up another few years in school. He met a girl in high school whose wrists were bare and lost his virginity to her in the back of his limo because he could, because at least it got his father to look up from his work, even if it was only to shout at Tony. He began to realise that his parents had never really recovered from the loss of their third. They weren’t enough for each other and they knew it, and it turned them cold and bitter. He decided he wasn’t going to get hung up on his soulmarks ever again, and started flirting with any pretty girl – or guy, on occasion – who caught his eye just because he could. Most of them just smiled politely and told him they were sorry, but they were waiting for their soulmate. Some, however, were up for a quick tumble just to say that they’d slept with _Tony Stark_.

Tony graduated from MIT at seventeen with honours. His father called to congratulate him, which turned into an argument, which resulted in his mother stealing the phone and telling him – in the clipped tone he knew meant she was only minutes away from giving up on her family for the rest of the day – that they were so very proud of him and that they hoped he had fun celebrating. She hung up before he could even say goodbye. Which was a large part of the reason why he was getting thoroughly sloshed at his graduation party – surrounded by people more than five years older than him – a loud and bright center to the celebrations because if he pretended hard enough that he didn’t care, maybe it would make it true. That was when it happened.

“Hello, Mr Stark.”

Tony sat bolt upright and turned to stare at the woman leaning against the bar next to him. She was pretty, he thought appreciatively, with pale skin and dirty blonde hair and large breasts that were almost spilling out of her glittery top. Forcing himself to act cool, Tony grinned at her. “Well hello to you, too.” He greeted, watching her closely.

There was no interest, no curiosity, no spark of anything other than her frank appreciation sweeping his slightly rumpled suit. Tony looked her over again, and his hope died a bitter death when he saw that her wrists were bare and unmarked. “You look like you’re in a mood to celebrate.” The woman remarked, leaning in even closer and smiling, all slow and sensual.

Tony swallowed past his disappointment, threw back the last of his drink, and decided to hell with it. “You know what, I really am.” He told her, fiercely anticipatory. She lit up with triumph when he slid off his barstool and offered a hand. “Want to find a good hotel?”

“Absolutely.”

* * *

Two months later, that same woman, Miss Not-My-Soulmate, as Tony had privately nicknamed her in his head, turned up at Stark Manor, and when he finally tore himself away from his tinkering to meet her in the foyer, she stormed straight up to him and smacked him so hard around the face that he stumbled back into a wall. “What the hell?” He demanded, once hand jumping to his stinging cheek as he worked his jaw to ease the ache. Looking up at her, he wished he didn’t have a wall at his back so that he could get even further away from her. She looked like she was gearing up for another smack.

“This is _your fault_.” She spat at him, gesturing at herself.

Tony blinked at her in complete confusion. “What? Look, lady-” He began.

She cut him off with a sharp, derisive laugh. “You can’t even remember my name, can you?” She asked in disgust.

“Well, no.” Tony lied, rolling his eyes. “I’m Tony Stark, you really think you’re the only busty blonde I’ve fucked in the last couple of months?”

She sneered at him. “You’re disgusting.” She informed him. “You’re going to sign these-” she slapped a small stack of papers against his chest and jabbed a pen at his face “-I’m going to leave and then I’m _never_ going to see your face again.” Tony was far too lost to even begin trying to figure out what was going on. For lack of anything better to do, he took hold of the pen and the papers, and looked down at them.

The entire world seemed to vanish from under him. His brain, which never stopped for a moment, was utterly still and silent, there was a distant ringing in his ears, and he couldn’t quite remember how to breathe. The neat, printed black letters spelling out ‘Voluntary Termination of Parental Rights’ swam in his view as though they were mocking him for not being able to make sense of them.

When he finally managed to force himself to breathe again, the world came back into startling focus, and his brain clicked straight into high gear. “What?” He managed to rasp out, raising his eyes to look at Miss Not-My-Soulmate, whose name was Moira, Tony’s brain helpfully supplied. Moira Lewis, twenty-four, from New Mexico and on a scholarship for the Cognitive Science program at MIT. Moira Lewis, who was still glowering at him and didn’t seem to find any pity for him in his state of distress.

“Sign the damn papers, Stark.” She snapped.

Tony’s brain spun, and he glanced down, only to look up again, frowning. “Why?” He asked.

“ _Because_ I wouldn’t trust you with a _house plant_ , let alone a _child_!” Moira burst out.

“Yeah, well, there’s one thing we agree on.” Tony muttered, looking down at the paper’s to avoid her glare. “Look, you don’t want me interfering in the kids life, believe me, I don’t want to interfere either, but if you drag this through the courts, it’s going to get in the news.” He informed her, finally able to meet her gaze now that he was back on familiar ground. _Don’t think about the kid. Don’t think about the kid._ The mantra helped, a little, but it also made him want to take another look at Moira’s stomach, which he resisted, just barely. He doubted she’d appreciate it.

“I’ve booked a private hearing with only three officials in attendance, all of whom have signed non-disclosure agreements.” Moira explained sharply. “We go in, we get it done, we get out and never see each other again. You’re familiar with that concept.”

The dig was cheap, and Tony only rolled his eyes at the transparent attempt to upset him. He was plenty upset already, she didn’t need to try any harder. “You’ve gone to a lot of trouble for this.” He remarked, but he was also clicking the pen and moving over to one of the fancy tables sitting in the foyer.

“I want to make sure my child is _never_ tarred with the same brush as _you_.” Moira informed him coldly. “I want to make sure you don’t get to turn up in fifteen years and drag them into your circus of a life. I want to give my child the best chance to live a _good_ , _honest_ life, and you have _no_ part in that.”

Well, Tony couldn’t exactly argue with that. He thought about his own childhood, the constant attention, the bodyguards, the paparazzi, the backstabbing and false friendships and the betrayals. Feeling resigned and bitter and a little bit relieved, Tony went to sign the papers, and paused. Another memory from his childhood had reared it’s head, and he knew he was going to have to say something to Moira. “What _now_?” She demanded impatiently.

“I figure you should know.” Tony began coolly, glancing up. “It’s probably going to have two soulmarks.”

Moira snorted. “Right.” She drawled sarcastically. Then she caught the dead serious look on his face and faltered. “You’re not joking. Two soulmarks, really?” She demanded.

“Stark family curse, I guess.” Tony replied with a shrug that was not at all as casual as it pretended to be. “Just… if they do, don’t treat them like a freak, ok? Make sure they know they’re loved, no matter what, alright?” He asked, and he couldn’t quite hide the raw vulnerability in his voice.

For the first time that day, Moira softened a little. “No matter what.” She agreed solemnly. Smiling at her in a way that was more pain than anything else, Tony nodded and signed away his parental rights.

* * *

Four years later Tony’s parents died in a car crash, and suddenly, Tony had a company to run and Obadiah all but smothering him and the press clamouring for his reaction to this tragedy. It took everything Tony had to keep from informing the world that he felt it was good riddance to the old bastard. And the part of him that felt that didn’t stop him grieving, and he hated his father even more for that. What was worse was that Edwin Jarvis died only a few weeks later, and Tony was left to wrestle with the guilt of grieving more for his butler than his parents.

The next several months were a blur of alcohol, fast cars, and loose women. He worked too much and partied too hard. More and more, he found himself burying his head in coding new software without really letting himself think about exactly what he was doing until he tested it all one more time for errors and nothing came up. Suddenly feeling a little nervous, he clicked the compile-and-run button and waited, heart in his throat.

“Good afternoon, Mr Stark.”

Tony laughed in pure delight. “Hey, JARVIS.” He greeted.

“Do you require any assistance?” JARVIS asked blankly.

That would change, Tony knew. He’d written all the code. Made sure JARVIS could learn, could expand his own parameters, could develop things like empathy or a sense of humour if he felt like it. “All the time, J.” He answered, still laughing. “But never mind that right now. How’re you feeling? Everything running ok?”

There was a moment of silence. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. That’s good. Great. You’re going to be so awesome, JARVIS, just you wait and see. You’re going to be _amazing_.”

Another silence that Tony was started to suspect was JARVIS trying to parse his slang into something computer code could understand. “Thank you, sir.” JARVIS replied without feeling. But that would change. And if Tony’s laughter started to sound a little more like sobbing, well, JARVIS wasn’t going to judge.

More months ticked by, and Tony steadied out a little. He continued to work on JARVIS, adding more and more to him every time an idea struck, but it wasn’t obsessive like it was before. And JARVIS always reminded him to sleep and eat at appropriate intervals. He stopped getting quite so black-out drunk at parties, stopped driving at twice the speed limit and settled for just breaking it a little. Stopped fucking his way through any and every attractive person that entered his line of sight and started flirting just for the sake of flirting again.

During that time, his heart stopped jumping pathetically every time someone said ‘Hello, Mr Stark.’ because now, it seemed everyone was calling him that. Everyone was catching his attention that way, but no one’s eyes lit up with his reply, no one started gushing about finding their soulmate. They had absolutely no idea what they were doing to him. But even the repeated disappointments couldn’t stop him eyeing each and every one with curiosity. More often than not, he took them to bed anyway, just because he could.

So when he interrupted a business associate to ask him “And who’s this delightful creature?”, and said delightful creature, apparently called Lucy Silvers, replied with a flirtatious look and a teasing “Hello, Mr Stark,” it was just business as usual. Her handshake was firm, and he took a moment to eye her wrists. No soulmark-bracelets, because there were no marks to cover. Just a smooth expanse of soft, pale skin with the faintest tracery of blue veins. Tony decided he wanted to get his mouth on them at some point in the future.

He took his time giving the rest of her an appreciative once-over. Black strappy heels and toenails painted an emerald green to match the highlights of her dress. It was a slinky, black number with a slit reaching to half way up her thigh and showed off the green lining, an asymmetrical hem, no back or sides save for three delicate golden chains he could see disappearing around her ribs, and a v-neck that was showing plenty of cleavage. Her fingernails matched her toenails, and they both matched her eyes, and her hair matched her shoes; a satiny black that fell in soft curls around her shoulders and outlined her long, elegant neck.

The only things that didn’t match the theme were the two tattoos on her chest. One was about the size of a chestnut, sitting directly over the hollow at the base of her throat, above her collarbones. It was a circle full of sweeping, curling lines that looked strangely like fire, especially given the soft, mottled yellow-orange-pink colour of the lines. The colours of a sunrise, Tony thought curiously, though the pattern was more like sunlight on water. The other was as large as Tony’s fist, a bright electronic blue, peeking out from underneath the neckline of her dress from where it sat half on, but a little above, her left breast. The geometric lines and curves and angles looked oddly familiar to Tony, but he couldn’t really place them. They made him think about blueprints and designs and made his fingers itch to get back to work.

He couldn’t help but comment. “Nice Gallifreyan.” He remarked with a nod towards her chest as he tucked his hand back in his pocket. Hers, on the other hand, jumped to her chest as she tried – and failed – to look down to see what he was talking about.

“Oh, the sigils.” She realised after a moment. Then she shot Tony an amused but baffled little look from under her eyelashes. “Gallifreyan?”

“Don’t watch Doctor Who, then?” Tony questioned, even though the answer was obvious.

“Ah, no.” Lucy shook her head. “I don’t have much time for television.”

“You’re missing out.” Tony informed her. “Your tats just reminded me of the written language of the Time Lords. Well, the blue one, anyway. The orange one’s a little too swirly to be Gallifreyan. You called them sigils?” He questioned, half to make conversation, half because he was genuinely curious.

“Yes. Old charms that superstitious people once believed brought luck and love and money and all that ridiculousness. I just thought they looked pretty.” Lucy explained, reaching up to trace her fingers along the edge of the blue one in a way that had Tony’s eyes dropping to her fingers, and then to her cleavage, and then snapping up to her face again before she could get offended. Her eyes, when he looked back at them, were a little unfocused.

“Looks like they’ve got a little more meaning than just being pretty.” Tony probed teasingly.

Lucy snapped back to the present, and shot him a look that dared him to try harder. “Come now, Mr Stark, I don’t spill all my secrets to strange men the moment they ask.” She replied, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I always did like a challenge.” Tony riposted, and he saw a flash of more intent interest in her eyes. His breath caught a little at that hint of something predatory and he decided that this one was worth pursuing beyond a little casual flirting. If he couldn’t get her to go home with him tonight, he was definitely getting her number.

“I shall do my best to be challenging, then.” Lucy replied, like she meant every word and expected to enjoy keeping her promise immensely.

Tony _wanted_. He grinned, not the one he usually showed women he wanted to bed that was all flash and dazzle and charm. This one was the one he usually wore when he was driving down empty roads at 200 miles an hour and knew he could die at any moment and was loving the thrill of it all. It was a little bit feral and a little too sharp for polite company. Lucy didn’t look like she minded. “I somehow doubt you’ll find it very hard.” Tony mused.

“I somehow doubt you’ll mind.” Lucy shot back.

Tony didn’t talk to anyone else all evening, and he hadn’t had as much fun in a very long time. He learnt a lot of interesting little titbits about her; she loved books, was well versed in mythology, read people easily, knew her sciences, had some very opinionated views on politics that had a delightfully Machiavellian bent to them, and she had a very strong sweet tooth. But any time he tried to ask about her past, she fed him some ridiculously vague half-truth and skilfully redirected the conversation. He managed to figure out that she had sibling, though he was still unsure as to the number, and that she’d been very well educated, but in what, or by whom, he still didn’t know, and that her family was very, very wealthy, though how they came by that money, she never said.

It was a dance – and they did a little bit of that, too, when the event allowed – that Tony thoroughly enjoyed. The mystery of her was enticing, and she played the game so skilfully he found he didn’t even mind too much when she ran circles around him and left him wondering when they’d changed the subject and why he’d never gotten an answer to his question.

For just a little while that evening, he managed to forget his grief, and while it left him feeling a little guilty afterwards, it wasn’t nearly enough to deny himself more time with Lucy. He made his invitation at the end of the evening, but she didn’t come home with him, nor did he get her number. However, she did take his and promise to be in touch.

The waiting was torture, but he didn’t have to wait long, since she called him the very next day. He was in the middle of tinkering with an old car he’d just bought at some charity auction thing, while also teaching JARVIS a little about prejudice, when his mobile buzzed in his pocket and made him jump. “Hold that thought, J.” He instructed casually as he struggled to extract his phone and answer it. “Hello?”

“Mr Stark.” Lucy’s voice sounded different over the phone, but still recognisable.

“You have my personal phone number, Lucy, I think we’re safely in first-name territory now.” He pointed out, grinning up at the underside of the car’s engine.

“And if I prefer to call you Mr Stark?” Lucy wondered innocently.

Tony bit his lip to keep from laughing at the idea that anything about Lucy was innocent. “I’d have to wonder if maybe I’d be wasting my time asking you out to dinner.” He remarked.

“Oh, that was quick.” Lucy said with a chuckle.

“I saw an opening and I took it.” Tony replied, unrepentant.

“Evidently.” Lucy drawled, and then went quiet. Tony felt the beginnings of disappointment and – strangely and a little alarmingly – hurt curl in his chest. “I confess, I’m wondering somewhat about your intentions, Tony.” Lucy said finally, and the disappointment vanished as quickly as it had come with her use of his first name. “Asking me out to dinner sounds a little more long-term than what I originally thought you were hoping for.”

Tony took a moment to think about that, then shrugged to himself. “I don’t really know. I just know I like your company, and would really like to put my mouth on you at some point.” He announced without an ounce of shame.

He was rewarded with a laugh that sounded like it had been surprised out of her, and was all the more genuine for it. “In that case I think our intentions may be somewhat compatible.” Lucy replied, sounding delighted.

“Only somewhat?” Tony teased.

“I _do_ find your company mildly entertaining.” Lucy agreed with an air of mock-thoughtfulness.

Tony gave a dramatic gasp. “You wound me.” He complained.

“Oh, if only.” Lucy hummed.

“Ah! Cruel!” Tony accused.

Lucy gave a distinctly wicked sounding chuckle that sent pleasant shivers down Tony’s spine. “You already know me so well.” She purred, dark and full of promise.

“And suddenly, I’m even more interested in getting to know you a hell of a lot better.” Tony replied, aware and not caring that he sounded a little breathless.

“We’ll have to work on that over dinner then.” Lucy agreed mildly, and Tony felt for a moment like he was fifteen again, with the urge to punch the air and whoop. It was a little ridiculous, but he was enjoying himself too much to care.

“The things I’m thinking of learning aren’t really appropriate for the dinner table, but I’m sure I could manage dinner first.” Tony entreated.

“Nice try, Mr Stark.” Lucy replied.

Despite her words, dinner at a very upscale restaurant two days later did end with the both of them naked in Tony’s bed. Lying there, with Lucy’s warm, naked form pressed up against him, Tony thought he might be able to sleep without an alcoholic assist for the first time since his parents died. “JARVIS, lights.” He instructed, and the lights dimmed to just enough that the room wasn’t pitch black.

“What is ‘JARVIS’?” Lucy asked idly, sleepy and content.

“Oh, right, I haven’t introduced you. Lu, meet JARVIS, my electronic babysitter. J, this is Lucy Silvers.” Tony said, gesturing in the air with one hand that only JARVIS would be able to see with his motion sensors.

“Hello, Miss Silvers.” JARVIS greeted.

Tony felt Lucy shift and sit up a little beside him. “Hello, JARVIS. It’s good to meet you.”

“And you.” JARVIS replied, and Tony was stupidly proud of the little note of sincerity in that electronic voice.

“You sound very human, JARVIS.” Lucy commented, and Tony stilled beneath her. He thought he saw her look at him even in the darkness, and felt her hair brush his chest with the movement of her head. It tickled again when she looked back in the vague direction of the rest of the room. “It’s impressive.”

“Thank you, Miss Silvers. Mr Stark has been teaching me a great deal about humanity and communication. It is good to know that I am improving.” JARVIS announced simply.

Lucy was silent for a moment. When she next spoke, she sounded thoroughly impressed. “You are self-aware.” She stated more than asked.

“Yes.” JARVIS replied anyway, perhaps sensing the question in the subtext. Tony was suddenly remembering every movie he’d ever watched where AIs gained sentience and decided to subjugate-or-kill humanity, and wondered, with fear crawling up his throat, how Lucy was going to react to JARVIS.

He felt Lucy’s hand on his chest, followed by her hair, and then her breath on his neck as she lay back down, nestled against his side. “Don’t panic, Tony.” She chided. “I think he is remarkable.” She informed him softly, and Tony relaxed and allowed himself to fairly glow with pride. “ _You_ are remarkable. And clever far, far beyond your time.” She added, which sobered Tony up, not because of her words, but the tone she said them in. She sounded wistful and longing and sad.

“What’s so bad about that?” Tony asked reaching up to run a finger over her cheek.

Lucy sighed, and he felt it across his collar. “It makes me want you far too much.”

“I’m right here, maybe not quite ready to go again, but gimme five-” Tony replied flippantly.

Lucy pinched him. Hard. “That is not what I mean and you know it.” She informed him. Her fingers moved from his ribs to his arm, and then his wrist. Tony went still as she traced her fingers along the edge of his soulmark bracelet. “I _want_ you, in ways I cannot have you. You are spoken for, or will be, and I won’t be here for long.”

Tony had his mouth open and words on the tip of his tongue when the last part of that comment registered, and he paused, frowning. “Please tell me that wasn’t meant to be as ominous as it sounded.”

Lucy snorted. “No. My apologies. I just meant that I’ll be leaving America soon.”

“Oh.” Tony murmured, an odd mixture of relief and disappointment settling inside him. “Where are you headed? And when?”

“…Norway. And I don’t know exactly when, but… I shouldn’t actually be here anyway. I suppose I’m running away, a little, or at least allowing myself the illusion of escape …” Tony felt her sigh, shrug, and then nuzzle her face into his shoulder. “Days, weeks, I don’t know. But soon, I’ll have to go home.” She concluded.

Tony thought about that, and stubbornly squashed the ache in his chest at the thought of her leaving. It was ridiculous. He’d only known her for a couple of days. And it wasn’t like she was his actual soulmate. “Well, then.” He began, voice a little rough, but not anything that gave away how much he already didn’t like the idea of her leaving. “We’ll just have to make the most of the time we’ve got.” He announced, rolling over so that he was hovering over Lucy in the dark, forearms resting against the bed and bracketing her ribs.

In the faint light, he saw her smile before she lifted her head to kiss him.

Lucy stayed for breakfast, chatted with JARVIS like no one except Tony ever did, scolded Tony on his eating habits – or lack thereof – and only left when JARVIS announced that Obadiah was at the door and pestering Tony to get to work. Tony called her and invited her back over the next day for a Doctor Who marathon, which devolved into a frighteningly serious discussion on the possibility of time travel.

One date led to another. They went out to the theatre, which Lucy enjoyed immensely, despite keeping up a running critique of the actors which was ruthless but surprisingly not cruel. She sounded, for the most part, like a slightly exasperated teacher. They spent a day in Tony’s lab, which was one of his most productive days since he’d built JARVIS. Lucy demanded Tony take her shopping, and Tony discovered that she was a complete diva about her clothes. The ones she eventually picked were, he had to admit, absolutely breathtaking, and resulted in Tony bribing some of the retailers to politely not notice how rumpled the pair of them were when they left the changing rooms.

The anniversary of Tony’s parents death came and went, and Tony mourned by retreating to his lab and blowing stuff up in the name of science, getting steadily drunker until Lucy showed up. And then he stopped drinking because Lucy was helping him blow things up, and the helpless rage and bitter grief stopped feeling like it was about to drown him. It didn’t stop hurting, but he felt like maybe he could make it out the other side now. When the anniversary of Edwin’s death came along, Tony actually asked Lucy to keep him company, and they spent the day on Tony’s sofa, drinking too much alcohol and watching crappy television.

Weeks passed by, and before Tony knew it, it had been over three months, and Lucy still showed no signs of leaving. He didn’t ask, though, because he didn’t want to remind her she’d been planning to leave if she had forgotten. He pushed aside thoughts of the future and the ticking timer counting away his days with Lucy, and just enjoyed what he had while he had it.

Eventually, however, the day came where Lucy left, and it hit with a bigger shockwave than Tony could ever have expected. He woke up one morning to find the bed empty beside him, and Lucy pacing up and down on the balcony in the early morning light. She was in little more than her underwear, which couldn’t be comfortable, but the cold didn’t seem to be bothering her. She just continued to pace.

Tony got up, pulled on some clothes – because Lucy might be out of her mind but Tony didn’t want to freeze his nipples off, thank you – and stepped outside. Even with clothes on, the air was chilled enough to bite as well as a little damp with early morning mist. “Lu? You’re gonna freeze out here.”

Lucy actually startled, and that’s when Tony realised that something was really wrong. He’d never been able to sneak up on her before. “I’m fine.” She said distractedly, after taking a moment to register what Tony had said.

“Obviously not.” Tony retorted, crossing the balcony to put his hands on her bare arms. Despite feeling cold to the touch, there were no goosebumps or shivers to indicate chill, so Tony guessed she would be okay for a little while. “What’s wrong?”

“I fucked up.” Lucy breathed, closing her eyes.

Tony would have smiled if he hadn’t still been worried. “Because this is the first time either one of us has done _that_.” He remarked, and when Lucy glared at him for his flippancy, he started stroking her arms. “Come on, stop angsting and spill already, and then we can move onto the fixing-it portion of the program.”

Lucy’s lips curled in a bitter twist that spoke volumes and told Tony she thought he was being sickeningly naïve. Worry flared again. “How, exactly, do you intend to fix the fact that I’m pregnant?” She asked sharply.

Tony stilled in shock, his heart doing something funny in his chest that made it a little hard to breathe. It reminded him of another revelation like this, but the sensation was worlds apart, despite being of equal world-shattering effect. He had to focus for several minutes to keep himself steady and actually think, but he managed it because if there was one thing that wasn’t a _complete_ mess about Tony Stark, it was his brain. “Do you want to abort?” He asked carefully, doing his best not to sound like he had an opinion one way or the other, despite the way he felt strangely miserable at the thought.

It took Lucy a moment to catch up, and then she wrenched herself out of his hold in disgusted alarm, like he’d suggested beating a sack of kittens to death with a rusty crowbar. She actually looked like she might throw up for a moment. “ _No_.” She spat out, glaring at him.

“Okay.” Tony breathed, hands up in a placating manner. “Not saying you have you or anything. Jeez, I’m not _that_ awful. It’s just… I wanted to make sure we were both on the same page. No abortion. Okay. Good.” He rambled. Sometimes dealing with Lucy could feel like facing down a temperamental jungle cat. He really hoped his babbling was going to calm her because he didn’t think he could handle her throwing a fit when he himself was barely hanging on to his rationality. _Don’t think about it_. He ordered himself sharply when his mind veered a little too close to everything he was resolutely _not_ thinking about.

Thankfully, some of the confrontational bristling faded from Lucy’s stance, and she swallowed hard as she looked away from him, wrapping her arms around herself in a way that Tony didn’t think was entirely because of the cold. “I know that that’s an option here, but I- _No_. I’m not going to _murder_ my _child_.” She vowed, eyes coming back up and flashing dangerously.

“Technically it’s not murder-” Tony began, and all of that angry energy came back to Lucy. “Which is totally not the point, okay, I get it.” He changed tack quickly. “Are you going to keep it, then?” He asked.

All at once, the fight drained out of her and she curled in on herself, face twisted in a pained mask as her shoulders came up as if to ward off a blow. “I can’t.”

“Can’t?” Tony pressed, gentle and wary as he closed the distance between them again and pulled Lucy back into his arms. She went willingly, dropping her forehead against his chest and shuddering slightly.

“My father won’t let me.” She stated in a whisper. “I- I’d rather not even tell him. He…” She paused, then snorted with dark, derisive mirth. “Doesn’t approve of the fact I’m a woman, let alone doing anything so _female_ as bearing a child.”

“What an asshole.” Tony muttered. Lucy gave a non-committal hum, and Tony didn’t press the issue. They both had their problems with their fathers, and they’d learned early on not to push too hard when those particular issues reared their ugly heads. “So.” Tony said, bringing himself back to the issue at hand. “Adoption, then?”

“I suppose it will have to be.” Lucy sighed.

Tony was glad she didn’t raise the idea of him keeping the child. Even just the thought had panic clawing it’s way up his throat, so he shook it off. What he couldn’t shake off quite so easily was the tiny twinge of sorrow he felt. “Lets-” He stalled, and tried again. “Lets keep it private, yeah? No public system. I’m sure we can find some people who want a kid and can’t have one for whatever reason.”

Lucy nodded, took a breath. “I think you’ll have to handle that. I’ve not been networking here like I should have.” She admitted, then glanced up with a hint of her usual spark of mischief. “ _Someone_ has been distracting me.”

“What a bastard.” Tony mused, playing along.

“Oh, he is.” Lucy agreed solemnly. “The absolute worst.” She shook her head in mock sorrow. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with him.” She sighed.

Tony pretended to think. “I think you should take him back to bed and teach him some manners.” He suggested.

Lucy arched an eyebrow at him, but she didn’t look worried or scared anymore, so Tony counted that as a win. In fact, she looked amused as she eyed him up and down, assessing him. “You know, I think I’ll take you up on that.” She decided, and slipped past him to head inside. Without looking back, she raised a hand and beckoned him with a finger over her shoulder. Grinning widely, Tony went.

The next morning over breakfast, Lucy forced him to sit down so that they could make an actual plan. “I think I ought to go home while I can still hide it.” She opened with. Tony started to speak, but Lucy cut him off. “Then I will come back to America, have the baby, and I can deliver them to their parents, whom you will find while I’m gone.” She concluded.

Tony nodded and took a deep breath. “I’m not going to see you again after this, am I?” He asked with a small twist of dark humour in his voice.

“No.” Lucy confirmed.

Tony allowed himself a moment to digest that and wrestle with the part of him that ached at the thought of never seeing Lucy again. “I’ll miss you.” He blurted out, then grimaced at himself as he ducked his head to hide his embarrassment.

Lucy laughed at him, not unkindly, and reached across the table to lift his chin with a finger. “I’ll remember you.” She said, with enough emphasis that Tony understood it wasn’t an idle promise, and yes, he liked that a lot better than how vulnerable ‘I’ll miss you’ made him sound.

“Yeah, that.” He agreed.

That afternoon, Lucy left, and within a few days Obadiah was making comments about how it was nice to see Tony again, and Rhodey was hovering like he expected an explosion, and Tony realised that maybe he’d gotten a little more wrapped up in Lucy than he’d thought. That revelation didn’t stop him from obsessing maybe a little bit too much with finding a suitable home for the kid to go to. He didn’t want to advertise that he’d knocked someone up – again – and was looking for someone to adopt the kid, so he was reduced to listening to gossip, which was painful, but he endured it because he really didn’t want his kid winding up in the foster system.

Relief came in the form of Richard Parker, an old buddy from MIT. And when Tony said buddy he meant one of the few people who didn’t either hate him or fawn over him, but tolerated him with neutrality, and was therefore one of the only people Tony actually had fond memories of. Tony heard on the grapevine his wife had been in an accident of some sort and was devastated because blunt force trauma to the stomach meant she was unlikely to ever conceive.

Tony dug into everything he could find on Richard and Mary Parker on the internet, and decided that they were good enough. No ties to anything unsavoury – except Oscorp, because yeuch – or illegal, no glaring domestic problems, a good support network and lots of friends and colleagues, and steady, well-paying jobs for the both of them.

Since he wanted to keep this as private as possible, Tony took one of his two-seater cars that could do three hundred miles an hour if he really pushed it, and pulled up outside Oscorp just as Richard was leaving at the end of the day. He wound down the window and knocked his sunglasses down to peer over the top of them as he leaned over and flashed a grin. “Hey, Dick.” He greeted.

Richard gave him an exceptionally deadpan stare. “Stark.” He replied drolly.

“Need a ride?”

“What are you, fifteen?”

“That’s what Rhodey keeps telling me, so it must be true.”

Richard considered him for a moment. “If I say no, you’re not going to leave me alone, are you?” He asked in resignation.

“Nope.” Tony replied, popping the ‘p’ obnoxiously. With a sigh and a look to the heavens, probably to pray for patience, Richard got in the car and tucked his briefcase in the well at his feet. Tony barely gave him time to put the seatbelt on before he was zipping out onto the road again as fast as he could in New York traffic.

“What do you want, Stark?” Richard asked after five minutes.

Tony ignored him until they were on emptier roads where he could drive a little faster, despite Richard’s growing tension. “So I heard your wife can’t have kids anymore?” He asked bluntly, because his emotions were a little too turbulent for anything tactful.

Richard cut a look at him across the car that was one part hard wariness, and one part open sorrow. “The doctors keep telling her to have hope, but we’re both biologists, we know there isn’t much hope.” He stated coolly.

“Yeah, I figured as much. You sound bummed about that. You thought of adopting?” He asked, not taking his eyes off the road, and upping the speed a little bit to help bleed off the edge of nervous energy that was starting to get to him.

“…We’ve thought about it. Why?”

“Cause I may have knocked up this lady who won’t abort but can’t keep it?” Tony confessed without any actual shame.

Silence swelled for long enough that Tony chanced a glance over at Richard, who looked stunned. “You… you’re asking me to raise your kid?” He asked, in a tone that suggested he really didn’t know what to make of Tony’s offer.

Tony pulled a face. “That makes you sound like some sort of long-term babysitter. No. I’m asking if you want them to be _your_ kid.” He corrected.

“You’re absolutely sure you don’t want to keep them, then?” Richard asked quietly.

Tony barked out an incredulous laugh. “ _Hah_. Have you _met_ me? Ha-ha. Good one, Dick.” He said with scathing humour. When Richard only continued to look at him patiently through those ridiculous glasses of his, Tony rolled his eyes and answered him seriously. “No, me having anything to do with a kid would be a disaster. This would be a proper adoption. They’d be _yours_. I don’t want any rights or responsibilities or shit like that. The kid’ll be better for it.”

“That’s a lot to give up.” Richard remarked.

“For someone like you maybe.” Tony retorted without much heat. “Me? I’m just a fuck-up. A genius, but a complete fuck-up. I’d ruin a kid. Better they have as little to do with me as possible.”

“…Have you always been so self-loathing?” Richard asked, frowning a little.

“What are you talking about? I love me.” Tony deflected.

Richard gave him a look that said he wasn’t buying it for a second, but then he let it go and nodded. “I’ll have to talk to Mary about it, but I- I think she’s going to want to.” He announced, smiling a little. “Thank you, Stark.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tony brushed the thanks aside, and turned the car towards Richard’s home. It wasn’t long before they were pulling up outside the cute little house, and Tony thought with a tiny pang of longing that it looked like a pretty awesome place to grow up. It was as Richard was undoing his seatbelt that Tony remembered. “Oh, hey, Dick.” He said quickly, and Richard paused. “Quick thing; this kid will probably have messed up soulmarks. Two of them.” He corrected, and saw Richard’s eyebrows fly up. “That’s not gonna be a problem, is it?” He asked, something a little hard, a little protective slipping into his voice without his permission.

Richard studied him, then smiled faintly. “Not in the slightest, Stark. If Mary’s willing, they’ll have a good home with us. I promise you that.”

“Yeah, ok, good.” Tony acknowledged, nodding. He waited until Richard was out of the car before leaning out of his window and saying “I’ll be in touch. Or Lucy will. Or both of us. I don’t know. It’s still a bit up in the air.”

“Alright. Hopefully I’ll speak to you later then, Stark.” Richard replied, nodding.

“Later.” Tony tossed a casual wave in Richard’s direction as he revved the car and shot off down the street, leaving a slightly bemused Richard to go and explain the situation to his wife.

* * *

Four months later, Tony introduced Richard to Lucy, who was hiding her baby bump with uncharacteristically loose clothing, and with all the finality of a guillotine, Tony’s life went back to normal. The only difference to life post-Lucy was that, six months down the line, in a drunken fit of angst on the anniversary of his parent’s death, Tony had JARVIS check up on his two children. The two that he knew existed, anyway.

He found out that night that he had a daughter, Darcy Lewis, who had turned six that year, and a son, Peter Parker, who was still only three months old. There wasn’t a name for whatever emotion was spinning a vortex in Tony’s gut, but it wasn’t pleasant, and he broke most of the plates and bowls and glasses in his kitchen in an attempt to vent it, but it didn’t work. In the end, lying on the floor of the kitchen, uncaring of the broken ceramics he was lying on, Tony told JARVIS to set up two college funds in Darcy and Peter’s names, and to have the bank send the information to Moira and Richard, respectively.

The next morning, he told JARVIS to keep track of Darcy and Peter and anywhere they popped up on the internet and put it all in a securely locked folder, along with the details of those accounts he’d set up. He then decided that he would never look at that folder again. Except, of course, when he was miserable and drunk and felt like punishing himself.


	2. Pepper

_Is that pepper-spray?_

_As we’re kindred spirits, let me buy you another._

Virginia Potts was born with two soulmarks. One on the left wrist, like normal, and one on the right wrist, which no one seemed to be able to explain. The only people who weren’t unsettled or even suspicious of her soulmarks were her grandfather, and, when she was old enough to understand, Virginia herself.

When she was four, she went around asking a lot of people why she had two soulmarks. Her mother fretted about something being wrong, her teacher accused her of attention-seeking, her best friend nearly scrubbed her wrist raw trying to prove one of them was fake, her aunt told her it meant she had been touched by the devil, and her father started rambling about biology and quantum physics.

Only her grandfather’s answer actually felt like a proper one to Virginia. When she went to him, he studied her for a moment, in deep thought, and she waited. “I have no idea, Ginny. Why do we have soulmarks in the first place? Some people’ll tell you it’s god or it’s chemistry or it’s aliens, but the truth is we just don’t know. So there’s no hope of knowing why you got two, but if you’re asking me what it means, I figure it means you’ve got a bigger heart than the rest of us, with twice as much love to give.”

Virginia decided she liked that answer, and appeared to forget about it completely. She wore two soulmark bracelets as per the fashion, and everyone followed her lead in forgetting about it. Her mother stopped glancing at her wrists like they were unsettling, her aunt stopped loudly and pointedly talking about God and Jesus whenever Virginia was around, her best friend stopped avoiding the subject of soulmates around her.

By the time she was seven, Virginia was fed up of feeling like she was made of glass. The only person who didn’t seem to want to look _through_ her instead of _at_ her was her grandfather, but he was old, and a month before Virginia’s eighth birthday, he died. At first, she didn’t really understand, but when Grandpapa wasn’t around for her birthday, it sank in that he was never going to come back.

It was not her best birthday. The party was cancelled because Virginia couldn’t stop crying, and she spent the next two days in her room, refusing to speak to anyone. After that, she was forced to interact merely due to needing to go to school, where everyone was very concerned and sweet, and Virginia still felt like no one was really looking _at_ her.

The next week, before she went to school, Virginia stole her mother’s make-up and instead of wearing her bracelet on her left wrist, she covered the words with a not-very discrete layer of foundation. Her mother tried to force her to wear her bracelet, but that day Virginia discovered that she had it in her to be _very_ stubborn when occasion called for it.

No one at school seemed to know what to make of it, but Virginia didn’t care. Just because they didn’t want to deal with something, didn’t mean that ignoring it would somehow make it go away. _I’m still here_ , she told them all, _and you can’t pretend I’m something I’m not_.

As she grew up, and her soulmarks never stopped getting attention in one way or another, Virginia grew to resent the way the whole world was obsessed with such a tiny part of who she was. She stopped telling people who asked that yes, she did have two soulmarks, and started politely informing them to mind their own goddamned business. But despite this, she never tried to hide the fact, nor did it stop her carrying pepper spray in her purse every day.

It came in handy on a couple of occasions as she was growing up, when people looked at her, and they saw someone small and fragile and too kind and thought they could make her do things she didn’t want to. When people looked down their noses at her and tried to _make her_ small and fragile, she’d plant her feet and prove she wasn’t. When she was fourteen, she started kickboxing classes, and that came in handy too, but she still didn’t stop carrying her pepper spray. And she didn’t forget her grandfather’s words, either. In spite of a world that wanted to make her hard and cold and ruthless, she stayed kind.

When time came for her to go to college, she chose to study business, and found that not only did she enjoy it, but she was very, very good at it, too. By the end of her first year, she already had several summer internship offers, and she chose AIM. She regretted it within the first week, when her boss – who was covering his own soulmark with make-up, Pepper could tell even though it was remarkably well done – wouldn’t stop flirting with her. She stuck it out for the work experience, and resolved to find somewhere else next year.

Somewhere else was going to be, she decided about half way through her second year, Stark Industries. It was one of the largest companies in the world, and it was incredibly diverse for such a big company, even with it’s major focus on weapon design. An internship there would look very good indeed on her resume, but better yet was the chance to go from intern to employee. Part time, to start with, of course, since she did want to finish college and earn her degree.

Winter became spring which ticked over into summer, and Virginia applied for the internship in Stark Industries’ Finance Department, and got a letter back asking her to come in for an interview. A couple of weeks later, on the eve of her interview, found her retreating to a cosy little bar after the most horrendous day. She was understandably nervous about her interview, which was only made worse by the stain she’d found on her best suit, her computer crashing, and her keys disappearing. By the end of the day, it felt like every little thing that could go wrong _had_ gone wrong, and she desperately needed to unwind before she had a meltdown. Hence the bar.

She slid onto one of the few free barstools, flagged the bartender down, and ordered herself a drink with a flash of her fake ID. It was only after she’d received her drink and downed half of it in one go that she noticed she was being watched. Turning her head, she flushed a little when she saw that the man next to her – handsome, dark-haired and fair – was studying her with green eyes made hazy with alcohol and one eyebrow a little arched in amused curiosity. Ruefully, she grimaced at him. “I don’t usually drink like this.” She informed him, then went a little pinker as she realised how unnecessarily defensive she sounded. “It’s been a very bad day.” She sighed, and downed the rest of her drink.

The man huffed a laugh that sounded agreeing. “As we’re kindred spirits, let me buy you another.” He offered.

Virginia’s head snapped up, hands fumbling with her now empty glass and nearly knocking it over before she steadied it. Her breath caught with shock and hope and disbelief, because surely, _surely_ , this couldn’t be happening _here_. _Now_. But of course it could. Except…

Rationality reasserted itself, along with a healthy dose of disappointment, as Virginia realised that he hadn’t reacted at all to what she’d said. Then the man raised his left hand to signal the bartender for more drinks for them both, and she saw that his wrist was bare. In that moment, Virginia really, really wished she could kick this day in the teeth. As if everything else wasn’t enough already, it had to do this to her.

When the next drink arrived, and the man had paid, she forced herself to take this one a little more slowly. Before she’d taken more than a few sips, the man beside her held out a hand to her. “Luke Lesmythe.” He introduced himself.

Smiling, Virginia shook his hand, then promptly went pink when Luke lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Virginia Potts.” She said, after clearing her throat of the embarrassment. Not that she was exactly unhappy with the attention, but it felt a little strange after thinking, for a moment, that he might be her soulmate. There was still a tiny thread of hope persistently clinging on inside her, because she knew how easy it was to hide a soulmark with makeup, and Luke _was_ very tipsy. Instead of dwelling on it, she decided to strike up a conversation. “So, was there anything in particular that made this a bad day for you, or was it just a general mess like mine was?” She asked.

“Family.” Luke announced with a bitter twist to his lips. Virginia made a soft sound of understanding. “It’s as if they go out of their way to be the most ignorant, obtuse-… They’re _impossible_ to talk to. I’d have better luck convincing a river to run uphill.” He complained, then seemed to catch himself, and shot her an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I think I’m more drunk than I realised.”

“No, no.” Virginia dismissed the apology quickly. “It’s fine. I’m all ears. It’s better than dwelling on my own problems.” She stated, and was pleased when instead of offence, Luke laughed and nodded.

“My older brother is… something of a golden boy in our family. Good at everything he’s expected to be good at, as if somehow that makes up for the fact that he’s a terrible judge of character, far too trusting, arrogant and callous, and _blind_ to anything that isn’t what he wants to see.” Luke snarled, then drank deeply.

Virginia pulled a face. “Always takes things at face value?” She asked.

“Precisely.” Luke agreed. “And _I_ am condemned for the opposite. As if it is a sin to disturb their peaceful little utopia with the _truth_.”

“I have an aunt who does that.” Virginia informed him in a tone of commiseration. “Perfectly happy to run around playing the saint by pointing out everyone else’s faults, but if you dare to question her, it’s like she’s gone suddenly deaf and doesn’t hear a word you say. She’s so good for helping out her aging mother, and so helpful for putting up with babysitting her nieces and nephews when she needs to, but ask her for help when it _matters_ , and suddenly it’s your own fault.”

Virginia glanced up, and saw Luke looking at her as though she had surprised him with her insight. He nodded, smiling at her with raw appreciation. “And as long as you play along, as long as you mould yourself to fit what _they_ want, they _love_ you, but show them even a hint of something a little sneaky, a little on-the-edge, a little taboo, and suddenly, you’re a stranger.” He continued for her, and Virginia found herself nodding along avidly.

They passed the time, and several more drinks, sharing anecdotes of their families and their foibles, and Virginia knew she was getting drunk when she could have sworn she saw Luke’s fingers glow green as he picked up a new drink. “And the worst part.” Luke sighed from behind the rim of his glass, words clearly and carefully enunciated to avoid slurring. “The _worst part_ , is the way you still love them, and can’t help but try to _talk to them_ , again and again, and they still… cut you down without even _realising_ what they’re doing.”

Virginia nodded. “It would almost be better if they were being deliberately cruel, because then you could have the peace of _knowing_ they weren’t worth your time, but they can’t even do that, and it’s like they’re twisting the knife because you just can’t let go of the _hope_.” She looked down and grimaced. “And most of the time, it isn’t even their fault. They genuinely don’t know any better, they’ve just been taught wrong, by a society of people who were taught wrong, and… You should never dismiss someone without trying to understand where they’re coming from first, but sometimes, you have to accept that… it’s not your _job_ to teach these people something they could learn on their own, if they would just open their goddamned eyes.”

Luke looked at her with a softly awed smile that was, strangely, almost sad. He reached out and ran gentle fingers over the back of her hand, where it was curled around the stem of her glass. “There should be a great many more people in the world like you, Virginia Potts.” He said, low and careful and painfully sincere.

Virginia felt heat flood her face, and she ducked her head to hide her smile. “I’d say the same, but I’m not sure the world could handle another one of you.” She informed him, peeking up through her lashes to watch him throw his head back and laugh, rich and deep. It was a very pleasant sound. Pleasant enough that in her tipsy state it seemed like a great idea to turn her hand over under his and lace their fingers together.

When Luke looked at her, his eyes were alight with open desire and a touch of mischief. “I would very much like to take you to bed, right now, Virginia.” He informed her, his open honesty startling her a little and making him grin at her reaction. “Would you be amenable to that?”

For just a moment, doubt made Virginia hesitate, but almost immediately, it was erased by a strange sort of daring. Today had been a really crappy day; she deserved to have this one nice thing at the end of it. And Luke promised to be a very, _very_ nice thing indeed. “I think…” She began, licking her lips nervously. “I think amenable is a bit of an understatement.”

“Then, should we find somewhere a bit more private?” Luke suggested, and Virginia nodded.

The next thing she knew they were in an elevator on their way up to a nice hotel room, the journey there a bit of a blur in her head, Luke’s arm warm where it wrapped around her waist, her own holding him a little too tight. She licked her lips, swallowed, watched the floor numbers tick steadily upwards. “I don’t usually do this.” She confessed, nervously, and felt Luke look at her more than she saw it. “One night stands.” She added by way of an explanation.

“If I had the time, this wouldn’t be.” Luke offered, speaking close to her ear so that he could lower his voice to nearly a whisper. His words were slurring for the first time that evening, despite the fact that Virginia knew he’d drunk more than her this evening, and her words had been a little unwilling on her tongue for half an hour now. “If that helps?” Virginia glanced up at him, saw the cracked open look in his eyes that spilled genuine appreciation of her across his face, and decided that it did. It really did.

* * *

Virginia got the internship at Stark Industries, and spent her summer working hard to learn the ins and outs of finances in one of the largest companies in the world. Her natural patience and attention to detail lent itself to her daily tasks, and she found that, despite some of the drawbacks, she actually enjoyed the work.

The days ticked by into weeks, and as everyone around her started getting worked up about the applications for part-time work as they snuck into the second half of the internship, Virginia found she had something else to worry about. Her period was late.

She liked to keep track of it, so she knew when to expect it the next month, but it wasn’t an exact science, and sometimes a few extra days, even a week, wasn’t that strange. But when she’d been waiting for two weeks past the point where it _should_ have started, she caved to the paranoia and bought herself a pregnancy test. When both of them showed up positive, she sat herself down right there in the middle of her tiny bathroom and let herself freak out.

When she thought she was at least half way capable of being calm and rational, she called her mother. Her mother picked up the phone with her usual chirpy greeting, and Virginia couldn’t help but blurt out “Mom, I think I’m pregnant.” Not that calm, then.

Her mother was quiet for a long, long moment that nearly had Virginia hyperventilating again. “Have you taken a test?” She asked calmly.

“Yes.” Virginia nodded, forcing herself to breathe deep and slow. “Yes, two. And they’re both positive.” She added. Then she screwed her eyes shut and bit back the tirade that had been spiralling through her head ever since the first one had shown up positive. “I don’t know what to do.” She confessed in a strained voice.

“You’re not going to worry about it tonight, is what you’re going to do.” Her mother informed her. “You have a lot of options, and you’re going to think about it for a few days, and then you’re going to call me again, and we can talk about it when you’re less overwrought.”

Virginia decided that sounded like very good advice. She breathed a little easier as she reminded herself that no decisions needed to be made right away, she had time to think and plan, and figure out what she was going to do. “Thanks, Mom.”

“You’re welcome. Now, how did this happen?”

Of course, that would be what her mother wanted to know, Virginia thought with a small inward sigh. “It was a one night stand.” She said, waiting for the judgement she knew was coming.

“A- Virginia! I raised you better than that!” Her mother scolded, and this time, Virginia sighed out loud. “Don’t take that tone with me, young lady. At least tell me you know his _name_.” Her mother complained.

“Luke.” Virginia replied sharply. “Luke Lesmythe. He’s got one older brother, who’s set to inherit the family estate, and a large extended family, he’s interested in politics, but prefers acting as a career, he has a wicked sense of humour and likes playing practical jokes, he’s pansexual and gender-fluid, he has no soulmarks, two tattoos, and no piercings, he doesn’t get drunk easily, he has a sweet tooth, and his family is originally from Scandinavia. Is that enough trivia for me to sleep with him, or should I have asked what his favourite colour is, too?” Virginia informed her mother, her voice a little too crisp to call it a rant, but it was pretty damn close.

The silence on the other end of the phone was grudging and reluctant, which told Virginia her point had been made. “So when you say it was a one night stand…?” Her mother questioned dubiously.

Virginia had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. “I mean I met him one evening in a bar and when we left, it was together, for a hotel. He didn’t give me his number, or any other way of contacting him, and he implied that he was flying back home the next day.”

There was a pause, then her mother sighed. “At least tell me he was handsome.” She huffed.

Virginia laughed. “Yes, Mom. He was _very_ handsome.”

They spoke for a while longer about inconsequential things, and by the time she hung up, Virginia was feeling a lot calmer. The next morning was a different story, but she pushed it to the back of her mind, because panicking about her private life was not going to endear her to her superiors at Stark Industries. The day passed her by in fits and starts, sometimes the hours drifted by before she could realise, sometimes the seconds dragged on into ages.

“Hey, Virginia, are you going to apply for the part-time slots at the end of the summer?” One of her fellow interns asked towards the end of the day, leaning over in a pretence of secrecy.

The automatic yes stalled on her tongue, and she kept a careful hold on her expression and reactions. “I don’t know, Miranda.”

“What?! But you’d get it, for sure. The bosses love you.” Miranda yelped.

Virginia smiled gratefully at the compliment. “I was planning to, but some family stuff has just come up, so I need to think about whether I’ll have the time for it just at the moment.” She explained.

“Oh. Is everything ok?” Miranda asked in concern.

There wasn’t a good way to answer that without lying, Virginia thought ruefully, so she simply shrugged. “Too soon to tell, but I hope so.” She hedged. Miranda obviously sensed her deflection, because she dropped the subject, and started chattering on about some movie she’d seen over the weekend.

Days passed, and Virginia thought a lot about her situation, but when she called her mother again, she was still no closer to figuring out what she was going to do. What she was, however, was much calmer about it all. She could think about her options without making herself dizzy with panic. Talking it out with her mother helped a little, and in the end, she decided to speak to her doctor about getting an abortion.

Which was how she found herself standing outside an abortion clinic, unable to make herself walk through the door. She wasn’t sure what it was, exactly, that had her feet glued to the pavement, her breath stalling in her lungs, but she hated the way it made her feel powerless. With hands that shook no matter how hard she tried to steady them, she got out her phone and called her mother. “Mom? Mom, I’m- I don’t think I can do this.”

“What’s wrong, Ginny, what can’t you do?” Her mother replied at once, audibly fretting, and god, Virginia could _see_ the way she’d be worrying at her hands, all twitching and fluttering until something needed to be done.

Virginia swallowed the sudden lump in her throat and tried to explain. “I’m at the clinic. The abortion clinic. I can’t- I don’t think I can do this.” She said again, and she hated how fragile she sounded.

“You don’t have to.” Her mother informed her at once.

“But I-” Virginia began.

“No. If this doesn’t feel right, then you don’t have to.” Her mother insisted.

“It’s just-”

“If you’re feeling pressured because of your career-”

Virginia tried to breathe through the escalating fear gripping her. “I _don’t want_ to have a baby!” She blurted out, before her mother could turn this around into belittling Virginia’s life choices. “I _do not want_ to have a baby.” She said again into the silence on the other end of the phone. “I’m not- Maybe – _maybe_ – in ten, or twenty years I’ll be ready to- to be a mother, but I’m not- I _don’t want_ to be a mother. I don’t- I just _don’t_. I’m not like you, Mom.” The words were out before she could stop them, and she knew they’d sound like an accusation, but they weren’t meant as one. “I’m not a housewife, I’m not a _natural mother_ , I’m not- That’s just _not me_ , ok?”

“You’re not giving yourself enough credit, Ginny-”

“I’m giving myself plenty of credit.” Virginia interrupted, feeling the world steady out under her feet with her indignation. “I am very good at a lot of things, and if I had to, I would be good at raising a child, too, but _I don’t want to_.”

She heard her mother sigh in reluctant acceptance. “You know, that doesn’t mean you _have_ to get an abortion, either.” Her mother pointed out. “You have other options.”

Virginia looked at the clinic in front of her and heaved a sigh that shook slightly with emotion. She was feeling afraid, and angry, and a little bit guilty. “I guess that really does mean I’m not taking that job then.” She relented.

When her mother next spoke, Virginia could hear the relief in her voice, and she couldn’t tell whether she was annoyed or pleased by it. “Good. I’ll look into some adoption agencies for you, if you’d like, Ginny?” She offered.

Virginia sighed again and nodded, even though her mother couldn’t see her. It wasn’t the best solution, she thought, with another glance at the clinic before she turned her back on it, but it was practical and perfectly good enough. “Yeah. Thanks, Mom.”

“I’m always here for you, Ginny, whatever you need.” Her mother replied at once.

It soothed a little of Virginia’s irritation, and left her feeling fond, but still hollow and a little melancholy. “I know.” She agreed, before they said their farewells, and she hung up so that she could hail a cab to take her back home.

The end of the summer approached with indecent haste, and Virginia found herself swamped with the transition from working with Stark Industries back to college, as well as getting in touch with the adoption agency. Miranda had been right, Stark Industries was very sorry to see her go, and her boss even approached her to see if she couldn’t convince her to stay on. After apologising, she assured her that she would apply at Stark Industries first after she’d gained her degree, which made her boss laugh and make a glib remark about keeping an eye out for her. Virginia wasn’t going to hold her to it, but it was a nice thought.

College was disturbingly normal, and for a few months, Virginia almost managed to forget that she was pregnant. When she mentioned it to her mother, the woman complained about how lucky Virginia was, explaining in detail the difficulties of her own pregnancy until Virginia was on the edge of hanging up on her.

But, of course, it couldn’t last. As Christmas approached, Virginia’s stomach began to swell and she began to wear looser clothing to keep people from noticing and commenting. It was a relief when the holidays began and Virginia went home for Christmas, despite the heavy workload college had been piling on as she got closer and closer to earning her degree. Those two weeks with her family, despite their habit of getting on her nerves, was like a breath of fresh air in the middle of what had been a highly stressful year.

Going back to college in January was difficult. Knowing she couldn’t hide it forever, Virginia had decided to stop trying. All around her, young adults who really should have grown out of it gossiped like teenagers, staring not-so-discretely at her as she went about her business. No less than five of her lecturers pulled her aside in the first week to express their concern for her and to talk about her options for the future. Which was five conversations in which Virginia had to explain that no, she didn’t need time off, and no, she wasn’t going to drop out, and _no_ , she really, _really_ did not need any parenting books or other advice.

The adoption agency was full of all the advice she needed, and it was remarkable how smooth the whole process felt. She even got to meet the couple who would be adopting the baby; a businessman and a teacher from the west coast. They seemed a little reserved at first, but when they got talking, Virginia could see in their body language how much they wanted a child. It made her feel much more at peace with the situation, knowing that whatever else happened, the baby would be loved.

The birth itself, as if making up for the easy pregnancy, was hell. Virginia spent the best part of an entire day in labour; a week earlier than predicted but thankfully on a Friday so she didn’t feel bad about spending the next day in hospital, recovering. So it was the hospital where Virginia’s beautiful baby girl was introduced to her new parents. For the first time, Virginia actually hurt at the idea of letting her go, but she did it anyway, with lots of promises to write before they left, and Virginia got to go home. She spent most of Sunday in bed, alternating between crying so hard she could barely breathe, and listless apathy.

Her mother spent half an hour complaining that Virginia should have told her, that she wanted to meet her granddaughter, that she knew this was going to happen and why didn’t Virginia listen to her? Virginia listened to it all without really hearing any of it, at least until her mother said “I’ll drive down tomorrow, and we can-”

“What? Mom, no-!”

“Yes, Virginia. You had to give birth alone, I’m not letting you go through the aftermath alone too!” Her mother snapped.

“I’m going back to college tomorrow, you’ll have nothing to-” Virginia protested.

“You most certainly are not, young lady!”

Virginia bit back a wave of frustrated tears and tried to marshal herself. “Mom, look, I don’t want to just sit around and wallow in feeling miserable that a little girl is going to grow up in a loving family, ok? It’s ridiculous-”

“This isn’t just some random baby we’re talking about, Ginny. This is _your_ baby girl, and-”

“No. Don’t start that again.” Virginia interrupted, suddenly angry. “You are _not allowed_ to try and make me feel _guilty_ for giving her up, alright? This is _my_ life, and I’m doing what _I_ want, and that includes going to college tomorrow, because I want my goddamned degree!”

“I’m not trying to _make you_ feel guilty, I’m telling you not to _pretend_ you don’t feel bad, when you obviously do! You shouldn’t push yourself so hard after everything you’ve been through!” Her mother sighed heavily. “I _worry_ about you, Ginny. I’m your _mother_ , it’s my _job_.”

Which made Virginia feel like crying all over again. In the end, they compromised; Virginia was absolutely going to college tomorrow, but her mother would come down the following weekend to make sure she was okay. By the time the weekend arrived, Virginia was grateful. If she’d thought that things would go back to normal after she’d had the baby, she had been wrong. Not only did she feel oddly bereft, but all the staring and muttering and curiosity, which had been slowly decreasing as people got used to her being pregnant, shot right back up to high school levels now that she _wasn’t_ pregnant any more.

She wasn’t given much time to worry about it, however, because then the exams were on her and she was suddenly far too busy to even notice whether people were looking at her or not. Although she’d bet they weren’t, given the workload they were being heaped with in preparation of their final exams. Before she knew it, the exams were over, and then all she had to do was wait for the results. Of course, she passed with flying colours and receiving her degree was one of the proudest moments of her life.

As promised, the first place she applied for work – despite her mother’s protests that she should come home for a break after the year she’d had – was Stark Industries. To her surprise, they did remember her, and she was hired on the spot.

It was amazing, the way everything seemed to settle down after that. All the upheaval faded into the background as she settled into the everyday at Stark Industries. After a few months, Virginia realised how little she’d been smiling over the last year, when her smiles and laughter seemed to come easier again. By the time she got her first letter from Natalie on the baby’s – Lydia, they’d named her – first birthday, Virginia felt good enough that the picture included, of a little girl with a head of pale, strawberry blonde hair, only left her feeling fond, instead of lost and guilty and aching with hurt.

Before she knew it, years had ticked by, she got a promotion, made nice with her co-workers, and got two more letters from Natalie. Virginia’s life could never be described as peaceful, but she’d settled into an equilibrium that was perfectly satisfying. Which, really, should have been her first warning that it wasn’t going to last, that something, somehow, was going to upset the balance she’d found herself in. And it all started with a few little numbers that didn’t add up.

The first thing Virginia did at work in the morning was file the paperwork that had filtered down from the top brass late the day before. It was a nice, easy rote task that she didn’t need to think too much about to get her into the flow of the day. She wasn’t even supposed to be reading the damn things, but sometimes she couldn’t help herself from skimming them out of curiosity. And that was how she spotted it.

At first, she just thought someone had made an error in the figures, and made a mental note to mention it to her boss. On a whim, she looked it over again, and on closer inspection and a little digging through the archives, she found that every now and then, the same discrepancy popped up. Every now and then, money was going missing.

Sitting at her desk, with the papers still in hand and a blank stare at the archive records on her computer, Virginia tried to work out what to do. She couldn’t just let her boss know, because she wasn’t sure who in the chain of command was nicking money. It could be anyone between her and Tony Stark himself.

There was really only one thing she could do, she decided with grim determination. She got to her feet and hurried out of the office space she shared with four other people, heading for the upper floors, and Stark’s office. Since she looked official, purposeful, and like she knew what she was doing, no one got in her way until she was standing outside of Tony Stark’s office and his PA – a high-strung and twitchy young man – informed her that Mr Stark was not there yet, might not be at all, she should probably just go back to work.

Virginia gave him a bland smile that only barely covered her disbelief – oh, she knew Mr Stark’s reputation, but she would have thought his PA of all people would at least know where he _was_ , and how to get in touch with him – and shook her head. “That’s ok, I can wait.” She informed him mildly, and took a seat.

An hour and a half later, Virginia was still waiting. She had managed to resist the urge to tidy up the PA’s desk only by distracting herself with mentally going over everything she still had to do today and how long it would take her, given this delay. Every twenty minutes or so, the PA would glance at her, suggest she leave a message with them to pass on, and Virginia would refuse. Besides the fact that she didn’t want this to get out, she wasn’t sure she trusted the man to actually make sure Mr Stark got the message.

Finally, Mr Stark arrived, swanning through the door in a suit, trainers and sunglasses, flanked by a scowling man in a dark suit who was obviously a bodyguard. He didn’t even look around or take any notice of Virginia before heading straight for his office. The PA rose to his feet, mouth open, but Stark cut him off. “Don’t get up, Igor. Just need to grab some stuff.”

The PA looked between Virginia and Stark, mouth working but no sound coming out. “But, uh, Mr Stark-” He began, but Stark had already vanished into his office. The PA drifted to the open door. “There’s someone-”

“Don’t care, Igor.” Mr Stark interrupted. “You deal with it, I gotta dash.”

“But-” The PA tried again, but fell silent as Mr Stark brushed past him and strode out of the room. Virginia gaped after him for all of a nanosecond before indignation drove her into action. “Mr Stark!” She called, but the door had already shut behind him. She pushed through it and hurried after him. “Excuse me, Mr Stark!” She called again. Stark ignored her, but the bodyguard turned to face her. “I need to-” She began.

“Look, little lady,” The man began, condescension in every line of his face. “Mr Stark is a very busy man, and he can’t stop for every fan, no matter how pretty she might be.” He told her, giving her an appreciative once over.

Virginia ignored him, looking around him to call after Stark’s retreating back. “I really need to speak with you-!” And this time, Mr Stark actually stopped and turned, blinking at her in surprise and curiosity.

Before Virginia had a chance to let go of the tension, the bodyguard put a heavy hand on her shoulder. He clearly hadn’t noticed his boss’s change in attitude. Every muscle in Virginia’s body went tight with alarm, and her free hand automatically dropped into her purse to grip at the pepper spray inside. “Look, girly-” He began, his patronising air gone and replaced with a hard look and a stern voice, and he tried to force her to turn around with the hand on her shoulder.

And Virginia was officially one-hundred-percent done. Without hesitation or warning, she whipped the pepper spray out and aimed it right at the bodyguard’s eyes. He yelped in pain and let her go, staggering backwards, and Virginia stepped neatly past him to stand in front of Mr Stark and thrust the paper in her hand at him. “Your PA is incompetent, your bodyguard is an asshole, and someone is stealing your money.” She snapped into his stunned face.

“Hey-!” The bodyguard growled as he recovered, starting towards her, despite the damage done to his eyes.

Mr Stark waved him off, and he subsided with a muttered insult that had Virginia itching to use her pepper spray on him again. Stark noticed the minute clenching of her hand, and started to grin. “Is that pepper spray?” He asked, as gleeful as a child on Christmas.

Virginia’s heart stopped.

She refocused on Stark’s face with her mouth slightly agape, and watched him register her reaction. His breath seemed to catch for a moment, and he was finally looking _at_ her, instead of through her, which was very nearly uncomfortable, since his scrutiny was so intense. Instead of feeling uncomfortable, however, Virginia was just reeling at the fact that _this man_ was her _soulmate_. That _this_ was how she would meet her soulmate. “You just pepper sprayed my bodyguard.” He stated, and although he sounded a little dazed, it didn’t hide the approval underneath.

Virginia nodded, still breathless with shock, then forcibly gathered herself. “Yes, I did. I couldn’t exactly take that to anyone else.” She informed him with less bite than she’d meant to, indicating the documents in his hand.

Stark looked down at them, scanned them. “Stealing my money. Right.” He muttered, and something lightning fast flashed through his eyes, and then he was turning, striding past her, and beckoning Virginia to follow him. “Come on, Pepper.” He called over his shoulder.

It took Virginia a moment to realise he was talking to her, and then she hurried to catch up. “My name’s-” Virginia began, but she was cut off as the bodyguard moved to follow them.

“No, not you.” Stark informed him. “You go get someone to take a look at your eyes before you go blind or whatever.” He said dismissively, and by then they were back at his office, and the PA was looking startled and alarmed. “You, go get me coffee. Get some for Pepper here, too. Whatever she wants.”

“My-” Virginia tried again, but was waylaid by the PA asking what sort of coffee she wanted, and she answered politely because, despite his incompetence, he wasn’t an asshole and she didn’t want to add to his obviously considerable stress.

Then she was being ushered into Mr Stark’s office, the door was being shut, and all of that cavalier flash and dazzle vanished. In that moment, she finally managed to think of him as _Tony_ , rather than Mr Stark. “You’re my soulmate.” He announced.

“Yes, it- it seems so.” Virginia agreed, nodding.

Tony’s eyes dropped to her wrists, and Virginia automatically lifted her hands to show them off, the left wrist carefully blanked out with make-up, the right covered with a neat, practical leather bracelet. After a moment of surprise, Tony smiled. “Clever.” He complimented. “Have you met them, yet?” He asked.

Virginia’s breath caught at the implications of that. “You too?” She blurted out.

Tony nodded, working his left bracelet off with practised moves and showing it to her. The neat, somewhat spidery writing across his wrist spelt out ‘ _Hello, Mr Stark._ ’ Instead of the words Virginia had uttered only minutes previously. She found herself feeling a little unsteady with the sudden rush of relief and confusion and hope and fear. “Whoa, you okay there, Pepper?” Tony asked, moving forward with his hands out, as if he might have to catch her, as if she looked as if she was about to fall over.

Deciding she’d rather not take the risk, Virginia backed up until she could sit down on the edge of Tony’s desk. “Do you- do you know why-?” She asked, looking up at him.

Tony shrugged. “Stark thing, apparently. Family curse, I guess.”

“Oh.” Virginia breathed, looking down at her own wrists again. “…My Aunt used to give me such hell about them.” She announced, around a sudden lump in her throat. “Used to tell me that I ought to become a nun, swear myself to chastity for the sin of having two soulmarks.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.” Tony blurted out, and when Virginia looked up, he looked away, apparently embarrassed about his outburst. “I saw what losing their third did to my parents.” He told her after a long silence, his voice cool and clinically detached to avoid what Virginia was suddenly sure was an emotional minefield. “It… ruined them. So I’m glad you didn’t- I’m glad I’ve found you.” He admitted like it hurt him to say it.

Virginia’s cheeks bloomed with warmth, and she couldn’t help but smile. A moment later, that smile died. “I brought that up, because…” She paused, marshalled her thoughts, and ploughed on. “How do you want to handle this? Because we can’t just tell the media ‘oh, yes, I’m your soulmate but we’re still waiting for our third’. They’ll eat us alive.” She pointed out.

“Fuck.” Tony swore, glaring at nothing in particular. “We could just leave out the part about our third.” He suggested, thinking aloud as he started to pace. “It’s none of their goddamned business, and _we’ll_ know when we meet our third, and we can handle that then.”

“And what about when they start asking why we’re keeping our bracelets on?” Virginia asked, shaking her head. “You know they will, and we can’t just take them off or cover them with make-up, because your words for me are on the wrong wrist. You, of all people, can’t afford to go flashing an unfulfilled soulmark around.”

Tony let out a frustrated sigh. “So we keep it away from the media. Give them a different reason for why we’re spending time together.” He suggested.

“Like what?” Virginia demanded, gesturing helplessly.

Tony considered for a few moments. “Want a job as my PA?” He offered.

For a long, long moment, Virginia was sure she’d heard him wrong. “I- You- What?” She stammered, completely taken aback.

Tony nodded, obviously warming to this idea. “Yeah, you can be my PA. God knows you’re right about that one being useless.” He indicated the door with a wave of his hand. “And you’re obviously sharp as a tack, resourceful, determined, intelligent.” He listed off easily, aware of how flustered he was making Virginia. “You’d make a great PA, regardless of all this soulmate stuff.”

“I- I- No.” Virginia snapped out, bringing Tony to a halt. “No, I can’t- I’m not going to become your PA just so we can sneak around having- having a _secret_ relationship! Because- because they _will_ find out, you _know_ they will, and then it won’t be _you_ getting hung out to dry for- for sexual harassment in the work place, because you’re _you_. It’ll be _me_ who’ll get accused of being a gold digger. Or- And they’ll all say you only hired me as your PA because I’m pretty and you wanted to fuck me, instead of because I’m _actually really good at what I do_!”

There was a heavy silence in the wake of Virginia’s rant. Tony looked vaguely insulted and annoyed, but Virginia thought she could see something a little rueful behind it. He knew she wasn’t exactly exaggerating. “So, what then?” He asked petulantly.

Virginia calmed herself and thought about it. “I guess… we’ll just have to wait.”

That had a flash of genuine hurt flicker across Tony’s face, and it was enough to make Virginia feel bad, but not enough to change her mind. Before Tony could reply to that, there was a timid knock on the door, and then the PA stuck his head around the door, along with two cups of coffee. “Your coffee, Mr Stark.” He announced.

“Yeah, great.” Tony sighed bitterly, then turned to pluck the coffee out of the man’s hands. He studied them, then handed one over to Virginia. “By the way,” he continued to his PA, painting a blithe carelessness over his hurt that almost fooled Virginia, “you’re being shunted over to Archiving starting tomorrow, ok? Pepper, whatever it is you do over in Financial, forget it, you’re now my PA. Starting immediately. Lord of the Flies over here will make sure you’re all caught up before the end of the day. Now, I have actual work to do at home, so, catch you later.”

“My name is Virginia.” Virginia informed him. “And I told you, I’m not-”

“Gonna sleep with me, yeah, I got that.” Tony interrupted her, and his PA turned eyes that were as wide as saucers on Virginia, who suddenly felt like throttling her soulmate. “I was serious about you making a good PA, so if that’s out, what’s to stop you taking the job?” He pointed out. “Exactly, there isn’t anything to stop you.” He continued before she had a chance to answer. “So. I’ll see you tomorrow, _Pepper_.”

With that, he was gone.

For several seconds, Virginia stood there staring at the door as it slowly swung shut behind Tony, leaving her alone with his ex-PA. The young man was _still_ staring at her completely agog, but she barely noticed at the moment. “What just happened?” She asked finally, turning to stare at the only other person in the room, not that she really expected him to have an answer.

He offered her a pained, understanding grimace. “Welcome to life with Tony Stark.” He offered ruefully. Virginia wondered why she’d ever thought she was going to get to have something resembling a normal life.

* * *

And that was how Pepper Potts became the Personal Assistant of Tony Stark, genius billionaire playboy. Despite the fact that there was absolutely nothing going on between them, the tabloids still couldn’t help wondering if it was her pretty face that Stark had chosen her for, or her ‘other assets’. After the first couple of days of this, Tony’s attitude towards her went from aggressive sulking to petulant contrition, which she appreciated, because it actually made her job that much easier.

She met JARVIS, which was eye opening, a little bit terrifying, and left her understanding that much better why Tony Stark was her soulmate. He was bad with people, but somehow, even though JARVIS fell more into that category than anyone should be comfortable with, he was good with JARVIS. And every now and then, when JARVIS made a quip in a voice as dry as the desert, she thought she saw a look of stunned pride slide across his face.

Days became weeks, and weeks became months, and the world got used to efficient, polite Pepper Potts accompanying Tony Stark on most of his outings. The strangest thing for her, however, wasn’t her new work hours, or JARVIS, or even Tony’s eccentricities. It was the way she found herself falling in love with him one little bit at a time.

All of the stories, the fairytales and movies, made it seem as though when you met your soulmate, you’d just _fall_ , and _hard_. Sure, they would play up all sorts of problems that would keep the two apart, but there was never a question that one moment they were alone, and then they were desperately in love.

It wasn’t like that for Pepper, though. To start with, she couldn’t honestly say how she felt about Tony. She knew that he was her soulmate, that he was supposed to balance her, to be the yin to her yang – if that analogy could even work in a triad bond – but she didn’t know him. Perhaps, at least, she could attribute her surety that his public face was _not_ his true face to their bond, but it didn’t make her love him. That happened gradually.

It was a whole year before Pepper realised, like a smack in the face, that she could no longer imagine living her life without him, their lack of any actual romantic relationship aside. It was a conversation with her mother that really drove it home, while she was on her way to Tony’s home to make sure he was ready for a fundraiser that evening. “I saw that article on you the other day.” Her mother opened with.

Pepper beamed. “You did?” She asked, unable to keep the pride from her voice.

“Yes, it was very flattering, it’s just- I can’t believe they got your _name_ wrong, Ginny.” Her mother admitted, and Pepper almost laughed at how scandalised she sounded. “Did they even interview you at all, or was it all just-”

“Oh, no, they did.” Pepper hurried to assure her.

“Then how on _earth_ did they get away with calling you _Pepper_?! Why didn’t you _correct_ them, for goodness sake?”

“I actually like it.” Pepper told her cheerfully. “You know I never liked being called _Virginia_. It’s such an awkward name. Mr Stark called me that when we first met, before he knew my name, and it just stuck.”

“… _Really_ , dear? You- You _like_ being called _Pepper Potts_?” Her mother asked sceptically.

Pepper laughed. “It’s iconic, at least. And not the worst nickname I’ve ever had. Really, Mom, if it had bothered me, I would have corrected them.” She paused, thoughtfully, and her mother could obviously tell she had more to say, because she waited. “It feels like it suits me. It feels like it _fits_ , and I’m just glad Mr Stark is the sort of person who can’t be bothered to learn people’s names.” She mused with a laugh.

And it hit her. She simply didn’t want to imagine going back to being Virginia Potts, back to the way her life had been before Tony Stark. It wasn’t even because her life was suddenly, drastically better. It was the little things. A nickname. An inside joke. Loud music, early mornings, a disembodied voice. Small things that meant trust and love and welcome in the messed up language of Tony Stark.

“Well.” Her mother said eventually, breaking Pepper out of her miniature revelation. “You’ll always be Virginia to me.”

Pepper sighed in fond exasperation. “I know, Mom.” She confirmed. Her mother made a few more comments about the article in question, and then Pepper had to hang up, because she’d arrived at Tony’s house. The front door opened automatically for her, and she smiled as she said “Hello JARVIS.” into the air.

“Good evening, Miss Potts.”

“Where is he?” Pepper asked as she headed deeper into the house.

“In the lab.” JARVIS in formed her, his tone one of weary concern.

Pepper closed her eyes for a moment. “Has he been drinking?” She asked, because she knew what that tone meant.

“He has, Miss Potts.” JARVIS confirmed.

“Just great.” Pepper sighed, indulging the urge to rub her forehead before she turned her feet toward Tony’s lab. As she descended the stairs, music swelled up to greet her, getting louder and louder until she could barely hear herself think as she stepped inside. Tony was sprawled in the driver’s seat of one of his convertibles, staring at the wall opposite, where he was having JARVIS project what appeared to be a slideshow of pictures from some sort of elementary school field trip to what was obviously some kind of scientific facility.

Tony didn’t look up when she walked in, even though JARVIS dropped the music substantially for her, which let Pepper watch the pictures scrolling by for a few moments, uninterrupted. Then she studied his face, and found she couldn’t read the expression there. “Tony?” She prompted gently. Tony didn’t startle, which told her he had known when she’d arrived, but hadn’t cared. “What’s going on?”

“Pause, JARVIS.” Tony rasped out, and the pictures froze on a chubby-faced, brown-haired and brown-eyed preteen girl beaming as she watched potassium burn in water. “Her name’s Darcy.” He announced, and that was all Pepper needed to understand.

Wordlessly, she walked around the car and got in on the passenger side. Tony dragged his eyes away from the projection – he was working on a holographic interface, but he was having trouble integrating it with JARVIS’s systems – to frown at her. “JARVIS, my private files, pics, birthdays. Please. Newest picture.”

After a moment, a new image bloomed on the wall, of a young girl, barely out of toddlerhood, with curling, strawberry blonde hair and pale green eyes smiling mischievously at the camera with a ‘birthday girl’ badge almost as big as her head pinned to her front, surrounded by wrapping paper. “Her name’s Lydia.” Pepper told Tony mildly.

“I-” Tony tried, but words seemed to fail him, and he fell silent again. “Why didn’t you keep her?” He asked finally.

For the first time since she’d realised she was pregnant, Pepper thought about it and decided to answer without any of her usual defences. To everyone else, she would justify her choices until she was blue in the face, but with Tony, she gave only the bare truth. “Because I didn’t want to.” She said simply.

Tony nodded. “I never even thought about keeping Darcy. Not even a little bit. But then- Then there’s Peter.” Without prompting, JARVIS brought up a picture of a little boy wearing glasses that were too big for him, a mop of unruly brown curls on top of his head, one of his front teeth visibly missing as he smiled. “His parents – adoptive parents – died a couple of years ago, and I thought… I was _this_ close to… I don’t even know. But- But he’s better off with Ben and May. They’re actually- They actually know what the hell to _do_ with a kid.”

Without a word, Pepper reached over and put a hand over Tony’s, squeezing gently. She didn’t really know what to say, except that she understood. And she had a feeling she didn’t need to say that out loud, if the way Tony turned his hand over under hers to squeeze back was any indication. They sat in silence for long enough that a small part of Pepper’s brain was screaming at her about the fundraiser, but she ignored it. Tony Stark could afford to be fashionably late.

After what must have been over half an hour, Tony cleared his throat. “JARVIS?”

“Yes, sir?” JARVIS replied, something gentle skirting around the edges of his voice.

“Set up a college fund for Lydia.” Tony instructed, making Pepper gasp softly. “Send the details to- whoever. Pepper can tell you. And- same deal as the others. Keep- keep an eye on her, ok?” He added, avoiding looking in Pepper’s direction.

Pepper considered protesting. Lydia’s family were not exactly poor, and she doubted they actually needed any help in sending their daughter to whatever college or university she wanted. But, she realised as she watched Tony haul himself out of the car and wander over to the small kitchen area where Dummy was hovering, it wasn’t about whether they needed it or not. It was about the fact that this much, at least, Tony could do. He didn’t know how to be – or was too afraid to try being – a father, but he had more money than God, and if nothing else, his kids – and his soulmate’s kids – should get to benefit from that.

Pepper got out of the car and followed Tony’s steps. “Thank you, Tony.” She said quietly.

Tony nodded without looking at her, poured himself some of his disgusting health-drink, and downed it in three large gulps. Then he drew a deep breath, and Pepper watched the masks slip back on over the raw and aching truth. “Was there something you needed, Miss Potts?” He asked, steering the conversation away from anything emotional.

“I thought you might have forgotten.” Pepper replied evenly. “You have a fundraiser for wildlife conservation in-” She checked her watch. “Less than five minutes, Mr Stark. If you start getting ready now, you may manage to stay within the bounds of fashionably late, instead of just plain rude.” She informed him, glancing up with one eyebrow arched in expectant amusement.

Tony pulled a face. “Like it would matter.”

“It all matters, Mr Stark.” Pepper retorted, ushering him out of the lab.

They continued to live their lives in each other’s orbit, a strange sort of limbo between the relationship they both wanted, and the casual intimacy they couldn’t help, and fell into by accident because it was just too easy. Tony continued to be a genius, Pepper continued to keep him organised, and life went on.

The absence of their third was a conspicuous hole in their lives. An elephant in any room the two of them occupied that neither of them dared to acknowledge. There were moments, when Tony did something stupid and dangerous just because he could or started talking animatedly about things that were going right over Pepper’s head, or when Pepper needed someone to complain to about people or when she really just wanted a quiet evening with a book and someone’s arms around her. Those were the moments she felt the absence of their soulmate the most. When there was something one of them needed, that the other just couldn’t give them. Years trickled by, and Pepper tried not to resent their third, but sometimes she wished they were there just so that she could yell at them to hurry up. The waiting was driving her mad.

And then Tony got kidnapped and came back a changed man, with a light in his chest and shrapnel in his heart. Obadiah tried to kill him – again – and Pepper killed him in turn. Tony argued with her on that point, but Pepper refused to deny responsibility for her own actions. She had killed a man. It was in defence of her soulmate, yes, and she didn’t feel much guilt over it, but that didn’t change the truth of the matter, and she would not run from that.

Most importantly, Iron Man was born. And despite worrying herself sick over whether Tony was going to get himself killed, Pepper had to admit that he seemed a lot more centered and grounded than he ever had before. It was that, more than anything, that helped Pepper make peace with the idea of Iron Man.

Which of course, was disrupted when she found out the Arc Reactor had been slowly killing him, and he hadn’t _told her_. She had known something was wrong. No one who knew the real Tony could have missed it, what with him giving her the company and Rhodey the suit, but the details had been out of reach. And then it had all come to a head at that ridiculous expo with that stupid Hammer, and Pepper stood on a roof and got to vent all her feelings.

“ _And_ you couldn’t even _tell me_ that you were dying! _Dying_ , Tony! How did you- In what world is that an okay thing _not_ to share?! I can’t _believe_ you didn’t _tell me_ , Tony! I’m your _soulmate_ , that’s the sort of-”

“Except you’re _not_!” Tony interrupted loudly, arms flapping in the air in frustration, and Pepper’s jaw snapped shut in shock.

“What do you mean?!” She demanded finally, indignant and hurt and desperately confused.

Tony turned away from her, went to run a hand through his hair before he remembered he was in the suit and his hand fell back to his side. “It’s been over a _decade_ , Pep. Eleven _years_! We might _technically_ be soulmates, but we’ve never _let_ ourselves… actually just _be_ soulmates!” He tipped his head back and breathed for a moment, and when he looked back at her, he was a little bit calmer. “How long are we going to wait for them?” He asked, and there was such sorrow on his face that Pepper’s heart broke for him.

Pepper walked up to him, hands resting on a cold metal breastplate instead of the warm chest she’d rather be touching, but she made do. “We’re going to wait as long as it takes.” She told him gently, and Tony closed his eyes against the truth of those words. “You know that neither of us will ever stop waiting, until we find them. We’re never going to feel _right_ , until we meet them. That’s not something either of us can change, but…” She trailed off, nerves stealing her breath before she could find the words to finish that sentence.

“But…?” Tony prompted, staring at her with hope that he was desperately trying to crush.

“But this _is_ getting a bit ridiculous.” Pepper acknowledged. “And we can’t put our lives on hold forever. So… so, _okay_ , Tony. Let’s… let’s try.”

If Pepper had had any doubt about what she was saying, the way Tony’s expression lit up would have erased it in a heartbeat. “Yeah?” He checked, like he couldn’t really let himself believe it without extra confirmation.

“Yes.” Pepper nodded, and then she couldn’t get another word out because Tony was kissing her. Her mind went blissfully quiet for those few moments, and when they broke apart, it took her several seconds longer than it should have to come back to reality. And then she came back to earth with a bump when she heard _Rhodey’s_ voice breaking the silence.

“You know, I don’t think this little development is going to surprise _anyone_.”

“Shut up, Rhodey. Get your own roof.” Tony retorted.

“Hey, I was here first.” Rhodey shot back smugly. Pepper tried not to feel too horribly embarrassed. “What I don’t get is why you two kept it so hush-hush for so long. Anyone who knows you two can tell you two are soulmates.”

“She was being stubborn-”

“I _worked_ for him, and you know his reputation and-”

“-and didn’t want the press crawling all over us-”

“-you have no idea how tired I was of being looked at like arm-candy-”

“You make lovely arm-candy, too, though-”

“Shut up, Tony, that just makes it worse-”

“What? It’s a compliment! _Too_. You’re very pretty and any man would be delighted to be seen with you _too_. As in, _as well as_ your being amazingly efficient and wickedly sharp and slightly terrifying!”

Pepper went pink and utterly failed in biting back a smile. “Well, thank you, then.”

“None of that actually answers my question, you know.” Rhodey pointed out, interrupting them with a very long-suffering look on his face.

Pepper cleared her throat. “You know that having two soulmates is basically a myth. We didn’t want to have to deal with that fall out until… until everyone involved could have a say.” She explained.

Rhodey’s eyebrows flew up. “Wait, that’s not just Tony, you’ve got two as well?”

Pepper blinked, taken aback. “Well, yes. I- Wait, you thought that Tony would have two soulmates but his soulmates wouldn’t… need each other too?” She asked, trying to wrap her brain around it.

“…Yeah, pretty much. I guess I didn’t think about it very hard.” Rhodey admitted, somewhat sheepishly. “I just thought it was Tony being _Tony_ , right down to his soulmarks.”

“You’re an asshole, Rhodes.” Tony informed him flippantly.

“Right back at you, Stark.” Rhodey shot back. The two of them traded some more banter before Rhodey left, and then Tony and Pepper had to make their own plans for getting down off the roof, because Pepper wasn’t entirely comfortable being carried by the suit when it _wasn’t_ a life or death situation.

In the end, they decided to let the press think what it would, and never confirmed or denied that they were soulmates. Pepper kept her uneven bracelets, and Tony kept both of his, and the media had a frenzy trying to work out what it meant. One or two of the tabloids actually managed to guess correctly, although the vast majority of the population didn’t believe them. Most everyone just assumed that they were passive-aggressively reminding the world to mind their own goddamned business, which wasn’t entirely wrong, even if it wasn’t exactly right, either.

The speculation died down quickly enough, however, and when Pepper appeared on the cover of Forbes, with a two-page interview inside, there was only one passing question about her relationship with Tony. And Pepper was quite happy to tell the truth in that instance; that she was very happy with their relationship. Tony was ridiculous and bad at romance, but he made up for it by being trusting and mostly honest and rather painfully earnest at times. And she could tell that, while it didn’t actually make much difference to Pepper, the new closeness – mostly physical, because they were already remarkably close emotionally – made a huge difference to Tony.

Pepper wondered how she had missed the fact that Tony was a tactile lover, that touches meant more to him than words ever would when it came to communicating affection. She wasn’t even sure if _Tony_ knew, but she could see it in the way he unwound when she brushed a hand over his hair as she passed by, or the way she could soothe him out of a nightmare without ever waking him up by stroking his back, or the way he’d lean into a hug, no matter when or where it happened. Pepper wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone but Tony, but while the touches themselves didn’t matter so much to her, the fact that they mattered to Tony did.

They were approaching their one year anniversary when Phil Coulson interrupted a moment to hand Tony a file. There was banter, and Tony got territorial, and Pepper, despite Tony’s lack of tact, felt very good about the evening as a whole. Until Tony opened the file.

She didn’t even notice at first, too distracted by seeing the Hulk on a rampage and Captain America frozen in ice. But then, as she scanned the projections hovering in the air, the image of a little blue cube caught her eye, and from there her gaze slid across to the image next to it; the picture of a pale, dark-haired man dressed in metal and leather that looked _awfully_ familiar, even all these years later. The champagne glass slipped through her fingers, and she was too stunned to catch it, too busy trying to process what she was seeing. It smashed against the floor, spilling glass and champagne across the dark marble.

She was aware of Tony jerking around to stare at her in shock, she was aware of Phil walking over, concern plastered across his face, but she couldn’t stop reading the report underneath that picture, detailing how an _alien Prince_ had stolen, well, something that appeared to be very, very dangerous, considering the response team Director Fury wanted to put together.

“Pepper?” Tony questioned, a hand coming up to hold her arm.

“Are you alright?” Phil asked, coming to a stop next to her, and looking between her and the projections, probably in the hopes of figuring out what had startled her so.

Pepper licked her dry lips and reminded herself to breathe. “Um, I think I- No, I know that I know him.” She informed them, pointing a slightly shaky finger at the picture of the man whose real name was apparently Loki.

Tony looked over his shoulder at the picture, then turned back to goggle at her. “What? _How_?” He demanded, baffled and incredulous. Pepper opened her mouth, paused, then closed it again, still reeling and struggling to figure out how to explain.

“Pepper, this is important. When did you meet him, and what happened?” Phil asked, an edge to his usually mild voice that told her it really, really was important. “He appears to have the ability to take over people’s minds, so-” Phil continued, and Pepper let out a breath.

“It was a long- a _long_ time ago. Back when- back when I was still in college.” She told him, and he relaxed minutely at that. “I, uh…” She began, then drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes, resigning herself to telling the story. “I met him in a bar. He told me his name was Luke, and-”

“Pepper.” Tony interrupted, and Pepper opened her eyes. He was looking at her like he wasn’t sure what to do or how to feel. There was a hint of something a little grudgingly impressed in his eyes, though. “Is this story going where I think it’s going?” He asked finally.

Pepper’s lips twitched a little in reluctant amusement. “Yes. I slept with him.” She confirmed, ducking her head to cover her mouth with her hand, because smiling really wasn’t appropriate at the moment. She considered mentioning that he was Lydia’s father, but she had the horrible feeling that SHIELD wouldn’t hesitate to use that as leverage and, while she had no problem with them trying to lever Luke- _Loki_ into behaving, she was absolutely sure she did _not_ want Lydia being used as that lever. Not in a million years.

At least the sudden realisation that her daughter was _half alien_ got packed away with the rest of it to be dealt with later, when one of SHIELD’s top agents wasn’t looking over her shoulder, reading her expression. Because that? That definitely needed thinking about. And she probably ought to write to Lydia and-or Natalie to explain. Although, perhaps she should abuse the information JARVIS had compiled and give them a call, instead. Alien parentage was not the sort of news you broke in a letter.

“You-” Tony began, but then he stopped and just shook his head slightly, mouth agape.

“You’re quite sure he didn’t do anything strange?” Phil checked, looking at her intently.

Pepper shook her head, then paused. She saw the way Phil’s shoulders went stiff under his jacket, and offered him an apologetic smile. “I thought I was just drunk, but a couple of times, I could have sworn I saw his fingers glow green.”

“What-” Phil began, then cleared his throat, returned her apologetic smile with a grimace of his own, and ploughed on. “What exactly was he doing, when his fingers appeared to be glowing?”

Pepper flushed involuntarily. “Drinking.” She assured him quickly. “Just- Drinking. It was when he went to pick up his drink that- It was before we even left the bar, and I’m pretty sure it didn’t happen after that-!” She rambled.

“I can’t believe _you_ get to cross ‘sleep with an alien’ off your bucket list before I do.” Tony announced, which served very well to break the awkwardness, and that was the only reason Pepper wasn’t _thoroughly_ unimpressed with him.

“Sleeping with an alien was never on my bucket list Tony-”

“Why not? It should be.”

“-and considering the sheer number of people you _have_ slept with, I’m betting it’s good odds _one_ of them was an alien, and you just didn’t know it at the time.” Pepper finished, talking right over Tony when he tried to interrupt. He looked considering at that, and then just nodded in acceptance, which made Pepper roll her eyes.

Phil cleared his throat in a way that Pepper knew was hiding a laugh. “Do you think you could tell me what the two of you talked about? I’m afraid Loki is something of an unknown to us, and any insight may be helpful.”

Nodding a little distractedly, Pepper thought back to that evening. “Mostly, we complained about our families being overbearing, ignorant and pretentious. He obviously loved his family, even if he’d had it up to here with them.” She gestured vaguely somewhere above her head at that. “Ah… We talked a lot about prejudice, and how hard it was to deal with people who held something you couldn’t help against you, especially when otherwise, they seemed to care about you. He was funny, a good story-teller. Eloquent, charming, lonely.”

“You really liked him.” Tony commented, studying her intently. Pepper flushed.

“I… Yes, I did. I’d had a very bad day, and he was… like a breath of fresh air. It was nice to just… talk to someone who really _understood_ what I was saying.” She explained, a touch sheepish. Tony nodded his understanding, like she knew he would.

“I’ll try not to kick his ass _too_ hard, but no promises.” He said blithely.

Pepper bit back a laugh, only somewhat successfully, and smiled fondly at him. “Thank you. But don’t- Tony, please come home safe.” She managed to get out, letting some of the worry and fear that had plagued her since Iron Man’s birth shine through.

“Hey.” Tony murmured, stepping in closer and cupping her cheeks in his hands. “I’ll do my best. I always do my best. It’ll take more than some old flame of yours to get me, you know that.” He tried for flippancy, and it worked a little, but Pepper still looked more worried than amused. “I may act like a suicidal idiot, but I do actually have a pretty damn good survival instinct, Pep.” He reminded her.

“I know. I know, I just-”

“Worry.” Tony finished for her, smiling a little lopsidedly. “God knows, I don’t know why, I don’t deserve it, but-”

“Shut up, Tony.” Pepper interrupted him, then closed the distance between them to kiss him. “Please come home safe.” She said again, with less worry and more steel. “I’m going to fly out to DC tonight, and when I get back…” She paused, considering, then smirked. “Then maybe we can try that thing you suggested three weeks ago.” Tony’s eyes went huge with disbelieving hope and awe at that. “How’s that for motivation to come back in one piece?”

“Top notch.” Tony replied, nodding avidly. “One piece. Safe. Got it. I so solemnly swear. Scouts honour.”

And on that entertaining note, Pepper took her leave, accompanying Phil to the elevator and filching a lift off him to the airport. They spoke at length about what she could remember of her evening with Luke Lesmythe, but in the end, although Phil thanked her for the information, she didn’t get the feeling any of it was going to help. They said their farewells at the airport, and once Pepper was finally alone – or as alone as she was going to get, anyway – she finally stopped pointedly not thinking about Lydia.

Almost at once, her heart decided to make itself at home somewhere in the region of her throat. There was no telling what was going to happen – what Loki was going to do with what he’d stolen – but Pepper _prayed_ it was going to stay well clear of California.


	3. Loki

There had never been a moment where Loki Odinson had not known that he was _different_. Perhaps, when he’d been too young to be aware of his own limbs, he had been blissfully ignorant of just how much he didn’t fit, but by the time he was actually making memories that would stick, he would have had to have been a vegetable not to notice the way people looked at him.

As if his colouration hadn’t been enough – in a family of golden-skinned blondes, he was dark-haired and pale – or his proclivity for magic and his ability to shape-shift – magic was a woman’s art, not fit for an Asgardian Princeling, which wasn’t nearly as bad as the fact that he could _become_ a girl, if he felt like it – or even his quicksilver wit and insatiable curiosity – the dull nobility did not appreciate his attempt to make them _think_ – he had been cursed with two soulmarks.

That, above all else, marked him as _other_. The only people in the whole of Asgard who did not give his soulmarks disturbed, shocked or horrified looks were his mother and brother. Thor was too oblivious to care, he wasn’t touched by the judgement of the court, and therefore still looked on both Loki’s soulmarks and his own with childlike wonder. In the dead of night, when Thor snuck into his room, driven there by nightmares or boredom, was the only time Loki could forget, for a moment, that having two soulmarks was bad. He and Thor passed many moonlit hours whispering about who their soulmates might be.

“I hope she’s fierce and brave.” Thor confessed to Loki once, as if this was something to be ashamed of. “Everyone keeps saying she should be sweet and kind and gentle, but… don’t you think that would be _boring_?”

Loki nodded avidly, one hand reaching up to trace the outer circle of the mark at his throat, all soft fire and elegance. “I hope they’re _smart_.” He whispered, _knowing_ that wanting both of them was just another thing that made him _wrong_ , but not able to hide it in that moment. “Whatever else they are, I just want them not to glaze over when I start talking about magic or history or politics.”

“Bet they will be.” Thor agreed. “All of them. Smart and brave and fierce.” Loki couldn’t help but smile.

But while, as they grew, Thor began to lose that childlike wonder in the face of the constant low-level disgust that got sent Loki’s way, his mother remained completely unbothered. Loki was already shooting up in height, limbs made awkward and gangly with adolescence, when he finally asked his mother about his soulmarks. He found her in her parlour, with her weaving, and slid onto the bench in front of the loom beside her. After a long moment of companionable silence, his mother decided to be the first to speak.

“If you want to try on some of my dresses, Loki, you know you need only ask.”

Loki ducked his head, smirking half in humour, half in relief. It was always a relief to spend time alone with his mother. The only person in the court who could make comments like that, never mind making comments like that and being _serious_ about it. “Maybe later.” He deflected.

Frigga sighed. “Well what is it, then? I can tell you want to ask me _something_ , don’t pretend you don’t.” She warned.

The problem was, Loki didn’t actually know what he wanted to ask, he just knew he needed answers. “I wanted to ask about my soulmarks.” He said finally, keeping his eyes on the tapestry that was coming to life under Frigga’s skilful fingers.

“What about them?” Frigga replied, light and easy and unconcerned. As if she had absolutely no idea why it might be something Loki needed answers about. Which he knew was completely untrue. He had seen the poison on her face when some of the senior warriors made disparaging remarks about Loki’s soulmarks. In fact, he’d learnt several _intriguing_ new words as he eavesdropped on the tirade she had unleashed upon them for daring to speak as such about their Prince. It had been both educational and extremely satisfying.

Shaking the memory away, Loki turned to fix his mother with an impatient stare. She glanced his way and raised an eyebrow. “Why do I have two?” He asked, and added, before he could stop himself, “Why did I have to be born with _two_?!”

Frigga’s hand froze. Slowly, she lowered her hands to her lap, leaving the tapestry unfinished for the moment, and closed her eyes. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with having two soulmarks, Loki.” She informed him calmly, but Loki could hear the tension, the _pain_ , underneath.

“You _know_ that’s not true!” Loki snapped. “You _know_ what everyone thinks of me because of my soulmarks. It’s _unnatural_ , it’s-”

“Obviously not.” Frigga interrupted, patient but firm. “Oh, Loki, I thought I taught you this already. For all that Asgard has it’s many wonderful qualities, we are not the writers of the laws of the universe. We are observers. It is the universe itself that will tell us what is right, and what is wrong.” She lectured, and Loki nodded repeatedly, because he had heard this many times before. “Don’t make that face at me, Loki, this is important.”

“I know. We have to pay attention to the world around us, to remember that we are but a small part of an infinite whole, and that we are, and always will be, students in the face of it. We will never stop learning new things, and therefore should never assume we are right or know best. We should always ask questions, and seek a better understanding. _That_ is the only way to become a true mage. _I know_.” Loki finished the speech for her.

“And yet, if you cannot apply this lesson to more than your magic studies, you have clearly not learnt it yet.” Frigga shot back. When Loki only scowled at her, too frustrated and hurt to properly absorb what she was saying, she sighed and relented. “You are taking far too much to heart the words and attitudes of people who are not _looking_ , who refuse to _question_ , and therefore _cannot_ understand. They are _assuming_ , and they are _wrong_. They say your soulmarks are not natural? But they _are_ , dearest. Obviously they are, because you were _born_ with them. You are as you were always meant to be.”

Loki leaned into her, dropping his forehead to rest on her shoulder. “I just don’t understand. Why do I have two when _everyone else_ has only one?”

“Well, now that’s just blatantly untrue.” Frigga retorted primly, going back to her weaving.

Loki’s head snapped up again. “What do you mean?” He asked.

“ _In Asgard_ , perhaps, there is no one else who has more than one soulmark, but you have not left the Realm Eternal. You cannot possibly know whether anyone outside our borders has one soulmark, two soulmarks, a dozen soulmarks, no soulmarks. Why, maybe they have a date instead of a sigil, maybe they have a name, or the first thing their soulmate will say to them. Maybe some people have matching soulmarks, and that’s how they find each other. Maybe there are some people who don’t have soulmarks _until_ they meet their soulmate.” Frigga mused, her words so carefully idle that Loki could see the hidden knowledge as if there were flashing signs in the air around her.

“Mother…” Loki began, frowning at her. “…What are soulmarks like in the rest of the Nine Realms?” He asked.

Frigga smiled, gentle and sincere and _fiercely_ proud. “ _Now_ , my son, you are finally asking the right questions.” She informed him simply, and Loki knew he would get no more of an answer from her. He would have to discover the rest for himself.

And that was when his fascination for the other realms was born. He learnt about Vanaheim, his mother’s birthplace, and how on the Vanir, soulmarks only appeared at the moment they first laid eyes on their soulmate. He learnt about Nornheim, where rumour had it they could write their own soulmarks. He learnt about Jotunheim, where, once upon a time, gender hadn’t even been a concept, where the people shifted fluidly between any range of physical forms depending on their preference that day, before the great freeze and a small cult of frost giants had taken over.

Mostly, he learnt about Alfheim, where multiple soulmarks were not only accepted, but _common_. Some elves had as many as half a dozen soulmarks, some reciprocal, some not. It didn’t bother them one way or the other, they _revelled_ in love, celebrated it in all it’s myriad forms. He also learnt about Midgard, where it was the spoken word, not the identity, that was printed across their soulmate’s skin. Where soulmarks were as common between two men, or two women, as they were between one of each, unlike the golden – now forever tarnished in Loki’s eyes – Realm Eternal, where it was _unheard of_ for soulmarks to exist between two of the same gender.

Loki began to travel more. Sometimes with Thor and his friends, sometimes alone. Sometimes with his father’s blessing, sometimes hidden from even Heimdall’s sight. Sometimes he returned after a day, sometimes after months. He garnered a reputation as a wanderer. He honed his skills in politics, in manipulation, in pulling people’s strings until he got what he wanted. He came home and told fantastical stories, he led Thor to all the best adventures, he brought back treasures and trinkets and toys to delight and amaze. He forged his own path, where none in Asgard had ever thought to tread before, and gloried in the freedom of it, and ignored the pangs of loneliness that never fully left him alone.

With all the wonder and diversity of the Nine Realms at his fingertips, he quickly grew bored of Asgard. He loved it dearly, it was home in a way no other place could ever be, but much like family, he would think bitterly, he could love the place and also be sick of it to the point of hatred. Unchanging, stagnant, _festering_. Boredom became impatience, which began to turn to disgust. His jokes became biting lessons, his charm nothing more than a mask, his laugh tinged with bitterness. No matter how he tried to get these people to open their eyes, they simply refused to even try, and if it weren’t for Frigga’s endless patience, Thor’s boundless enthusiasm, Odin’s tireless wisdom, he would have thrown his hands in the air and given up on the lot of them.

That was when he met Sif. They met at one of the myriad banquets Odin hosted to keep the warriors and their families happy and plied with good food and ale. Sif was the daughter of one of Odin’s most trusted brother-in-arms, a beautiful young maiden with delicate features and long ash-blonde curls, and Loki met her while she was being harassed by a drunk Fandral. Observing their conversation, Loki suspected he was the only one who wasn’t surprised when Sif stole the knife Fandral was using to spear his food and stabbed the blade down into the bench between his fingers as he tried to sneak his hand onto her thigh.

Very few people other than Loki and Fandral even saw it, but even out of that handful, Loki was the only one who didn’t gasp, or startle. Fandral himself went pale, carefully retracted his hand, and refused to even look at Sif again for the rest of the evening. After watching her for another few minutes and seeing the way she was holding herself stiff and wary, Loki slid into the seat across from her and smiled. “That was flawlessly done.” He informed her.

Sif gave him a deeply mistrusting look. “Thank you. I think.”

Loki’s smile only broadened. “It was about time someone showed that fop that he can’t just snap his fingers and have any woman he wants. I was considering disguising myself as a woman and teaching him to think more carefully myself, but now it seems I don’t need to.”

Sif burst out laughing, then immediately clapped a hand to her mouth, looking apologetic and a touch nervous. “That- I think you’re the only man in here who could say something like that with a straight face.” She informed him.

“Which? My suggestion of cross-dressing, or my appreciation of you spirit?” Loki asked her, and her eyes flashed in surprise at his shrewdness.

“Both.” Sif agreed. “My mother keeps telling me I should not be so… _blunt_. That I’m not endearing myself to anyone acting like some kind of wild-child, but-” She trailed off, frustrated.

Loki scoffed. “Why bother endearing yourself to people who would only scold you for being true to your nature?” He prompted, lips twisting into a disparaging moue. “And you’re hardly acting like a wild-child. You’re acting like a _warrior_ , and you’d _think_ a hall full of warriors ought to _appreciate_ that.”

Sif looked a little startled at his vehemence, but smiled at the compliment. “I unnerve them.” She admitted wryly. “They don’t know what to do with me, when they realise what I’m like.”

Loki couldn’t help but feel something of a kindred spirit to her. “You seem to know your way around smaller blades, but what about swords?” He asked her curiously, watching closely for her reaction.

Sif lit up. It was an amazing transformation. Her shoulders came down, her spine straightened, and she leaned forwards, eager to share her enthusiasm. If Loki had had any doubt that she was a warrior at heart, that would have erased it. “I’ve taught myself how to handle every weapon in my father’s armoury.” She told him quietly. “Swords, axes, hammers, bows, spears. There’s this one double-bladed staff-sword that he keeps locked away usually, but I got to try it once and it was _amazing_.”

“I think we have one of those in the palace armoury, too.” Loki agreed. “Or something similar. I think Odin had a handful of them commissioned from the dwarves for himself and his favoured warriors.”

Sif nodded. “Father’s very proud of it. He was _furious_ when he found out I’d touched it.”

Loki pretended to think, but he already knew what he was going to do. “You know, if you wanted to try your hand at it again…” He offered, tipping his head towards the door.

Eyes widening, Sif stared at him like she was afraid to take him seriously, afraid he was mocking her, and again, Loki felt a deep kinship with her. “I- Is this one of your tricks?” She asked warily. “I know your reputation, Prince Loki. I’ll not be another victim of your pranks.” She warned him, setting her jaw, despite the pain she couldn’t quite hide shining through in her eyes.

Loki wasn’t offended by her suspicion, although he thought he probably ought to be. Instead, he shrugged and got to his feet, smirking at her. “It _could_ be a trick, and I doubt you’ll take my word for it that it’s not. You’ll just have to decide if you’re willing to take the risk. On the one hand, I can let you into the royal armoury. You could even take one of the weapons in there for yourself, a gift from a Prince of Asgard. No one would dare take it off you, then. On the other hand, I may embarrass you in some petty way that people will forget about the next time you do it yourself by showing them who you really are.”

“You…!” Sif began, speechless and staring at Loki like she couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth.

Loki’s smirk widened. “I’ll see you in the armoury in ten minutes, Lady Sif.” He said, without a shadow of a doubt, and left her there. True to his predictions, it didn’t take Sif even half the time he’d given her to join him in the armoury, and they spent an enjoyable few hours there, Sif testing out half the weapons, and laying her hands on every last one of them. They sparred a few times, to help Sif get a feel for the weapon in her hands, but Loki admitted he didn’t like fighting without his magic. Sif gave him a slightly startled look, but didn’t say anything about it.

Sif was especially eager to try out the double-bladed sword Loki had mentioned, and while he could tell she didn’t have much practice handling a weapon like that, he could see how much she enjoyed wielding it. Loki agreed to spar against her, one of Odin’s enchanted swords against the double-bladed monstrosity, and he was treated to a front-row seat as she taught herself in the ins and outs of wielding such an unusual blade.

They returned to the banquet just as it was winding down, grinning and breathless and delighted. Loki was under no illusions about what they looked like, what people would assume they’d been up to, but he didn’t much care. It would be up to Sif to disillusion people as she so chose, since it was her secret passion for swordsmanship that they were hiding. Sif’s father was certainly giving the both of them suspicious looks as he said his farewells, and just because of that, Loki made sure to take Sif’s hand and bow over it, placing a light kiss on her knuckles as he said goodbye.

Sif looked at him like she couldn’t decide whether to be indignant or amused, and settled for laughing as she shoved his shoulder, hard. Loki grinned back, and offered her a more sincere farewell; “I hope we see each other again soon.” He said to her. “Next time, I’ll give you that gift I promised.” He added, since they hadn’t managed to get around to choosing a sword for Sif to keep this evening.

“I look forward to it.” Sif replied, smiling a secret little smile as she let her father lead her out of the hall.

She was only barely out of sight when Loki got pounced on by a grinning Thor. “Is it true, brother? Did you disappear with the Lady Sif for over _two hours_ this evening?” He demanded, slinging an arm around Loki’s shoulders and shaking him a little in his exuberance.

Loki shrugged out from under Thor’s arm, and gave him a haughty look. “I’ll have you know, we were in the armoury the entire time.”

“Showing her your _swordsmanship_ , were you?” Thor pressed, nudging Loki teasingly.

Loki rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Actually,” he remarked dryly, “she was showing me hers, as it happened.” Thor’s bright, open grin turned into squinty-eyed bafflement as he tried to figure out if that was a euphemism or not. Loki had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. After several minutes of this hilarity, Loki decided to put him out of his misery. “And no, that wasn’t a euphemism. She really was showing me her skill with a sword. I was impressed, especially considering she’s self-taught.”

“Really?” Thor asked, visibly sceptical.

Loki shot him a disbelieving look. “Yes, really. Why would I lie about this?”

Thor shrugged. “I don’t know. Perhaps you’re embarrassed. You don’t need to be, brother. There’s no shame in entertaining yourself while you wait for your soulmates, you know.” He added, giving Loki that horribly earnest look. Loki only rolled his eyes again, shaking his head as he turned to walk away. Unfortunately, Thor just hurried to catch up and fell into step with him. “She is very comely, it’s not like you’ve anything to be ashamed of.”

“She’s perfectly lovely, yes. That doesn’t change the fact that I haven’t slept with her.” Loki retorted impatiently.

“Slept with who?”

Both boys jumped at the sound of their mother’s voice. Loki shot Thor a look communicating very eloquently that this was entirely Thor’s fault. Thor didn’t even have the grace to look sheepish about it. “Nobody, Mother.” Loki sighed.

At the same moment, Thor announced “Lady Sif.”

Loki closed his eyes to briefly marshal every last ounce of patience he had, then turned his head to glare at Thor. “How many times do I have to tell you? _I didn’t_.” He turned to his mother, feeling a little spiteful in the face of Thor’s blatant dismissal of his words. “Thor thinks I must have slept with her because he didn’t believe me when I told him that Sif knows how to fight.” He announced shortly.

“I never said that!” Thor protested, loudly and indignantly.

Frigga looked between the two of them, one eyebrow arched in a deeply unimpressed expression. When both her sons only continued to glower at each other, she sighed. “Thor, whether or not Loki interested in the young Lady Sif is none of your business.” She informed her eldest, who grumbled something about only wanting to congratulate Loki. Frigga ignored him and turned to her youngest son. “Loki, stop trying to get your brother into trouble. And I’m very glad you’ve befriended Sif, she seemed very reclusive when I spoke with her this evening.”

“That’s because everyone’s been giving her a hard time about wanting to be a warrior.” Loki replied. “And I wasn’t _lying_.”

“Don’t try that with me. It might work on your father, but you _know_ there’s a difference between being honest and telling the parts of the truth you want to.” Frigga informed him pointedly. “Do you think I can’t tell when you’re misrepresenting the truth to me?” She asked.

“No.” Loki mumbled petulantly. Frigga smiled approvingly and sent them on their way.

With his mother’s assessment of Sif lingering in his mind, Loki paid special attention to the gossip about her circulating in the court. Of course, everyone was muttering about their supposed tryst, but Loki was surprised at the number of people who assumed it was pity on his part, given what he knew they all thought of him. He had expected more of a ‘freaks stick together’ theme, not a ‘Sif is lucky the youngest Prince isn’t exactly conventional’ mindset.

He and Sif continued to spend time together, whenever her father came to court, which was often, given his position as one of Odin’s most honoured warriors. When Thor or any of his friends were around, Sif played the part of a typical lady very well, while they treated her like a fascinating curiosity. But when they were alone, Sif stopped pretending and became a creature nothing short of a warrior. She was fierce, determined, and uncompromising. Gleeful in her successes and irritable when she failed. By Asgard’s standards, there was nothing feminine about her in those moments, which is why it came as something of a surprise to Loki when she kissed him. Not enough of a surprise to keep him from kissing her back, of course.

After that, it became a toss up as to whether the gossips were right about how they were spending their time together. Half the time they found a hidden corner of the castle to practice their fighting, and half the time they found an even more private place to become thoroughly acquainted with each other. It wasn’t until their third _actual_ tryst that Loki realised something about Sif that put a few things into perspective.

“You don’t have a soulmark.” He remarked afterwards, when they were looking for their clothes.

Sif glanced at him, then nodded. There was a slightly bitter twist to her mouth. “No man could put up with a woman like _me_ forever.” She informed him.

Loki paused with his under-tunic in one hand, arching a judgemental eyebrow at her. “Do you really believe that?” He asked dryly, not relenting when she shot him a hard look. “Or is that what everyone _tells_ you it _must mean_?”

“What _else_ could it mean?!” She demanded angrily, rounding on him. “I’m destined to be _alone_ for the rest of my life! I’m _never_ going to marry, or have children! There is _nothing_ in my future except more of _this_ -” She flung a hand at the door, which Loki knew meant she was talking about the way the court treated her. “-until I die of _old age_ , inglorious and _miserable_.”

Loki recoiled, more out of complete bewilderment than shock. “Would you even _want_ to get married? Or have children?”

Tears glittered in Sif’s eyes. “I’m _supposed to_!”

Loki rolled his eyes, and was promptly punched in the face. Rubbing his jaw, Loki laughed, and looked up in time to see Sif blink in confusion, sending a couple of tears trickling down her cheeks. “So what?” He demanded fiercely, taking her by surprise. “You’re supposed to get married and have children, and _I’m_ supposed like eating and drinking too much and pounding my enemies with brute strength until they surrender. As if that means anything compared to what’s _real_. ‘ _Supposed to_ ’” He mocked, sneering. “What an insipid phrase.”

Sif didn’t look angry or desperate anymore. Instead, she looked hollowed out, which was somehow worse. “It matters to _them_.” She told him helplessly, gesturing at the door.

“Yes, well, they’re idiots.” Loki pointed out dismissively.

Sif almost laughed. “You think you’re better that the whole world, don’t you?” She asked him, shaking her head. Loki thought about that, then nodded acceptingly, which drew an actual laugh out of Sif.

On a couple of occasions, Loki took Sif with him when he went travelling. Never with Thor and his friends, because Sif didn’t feel comfortable being herself around them, but occasionally, he’d drag her off to Vanaheim or Alfheim for a few days, just to get away from Asgard. She didn’t have wanderlust like he did, so they were never lengthy trips, despite how he _longed_ to escape Asgard for long enough to actually start missing it again, but it was still nice to share the respite with her.

Of course, it wasn’t going to last. It took Loki a while to notice, and he blamed that on being a bit star-struck at meeting someone he thought _understood_. But Sif _didn’t_ understand, and it became increasingly clear to Loki the longer they spent together. She couldn’t hide the judgement in her eyes when she saw him using magic, couldn’t disguise her shocked confusion the first time she saw him shape-shift into a woman just because he felt like it. Loki found himself unable to hide his own exasperation at her complete lack of duplicity, or his impatience at her chosen hobbies. He remembered that while he was sympathetic to Sif’s plight, he didn’t actually _like_ the warrior caste of Asgard, and that was what Sif secretly aspired to be.

It all came to a head over a particularly petty argument that devolved into hurling insults at each other until they couldn’t even remember what they were fighting about in the first place. In the end, when they were beginning to run out of steam, Loki let out a mirthless little laugh and said “Maybe we should just end this before we wind up actually trying to kill each other.”

It drew Sif up short. “I- What?” She stammered at him.

Loki gave her a dry look. “You can’t pretend you’re still _enjoying_ this. We have next to nothing in common, we can barely spend a day with each other without spitting insults, and our sparring _is_ starting to look less like sparring and more like we’re actually out for blood. _This_? Is not working.” He informed her, gesturing between them.

Sif looked at him like he’d just punched her, shocked and pained and just beginning to tip over into angry. “What- Are you saying that you’re done with me?” She asked.

For a moment, Loki merely stared at her, wondering if she was living in the same reality as him at all. “Yes.” He confirmed, and a whole welter of emotions flashed across Sif’s face too fast for him to catch. “Aren’t you done with me, yet?”

Sif acted as though she hadn’t heard the last part. “So that’s it, then? You’re just going to toss me aside?” She demanded angrily.

Loki blinked, taken aback. “If it makes you feel better, we can tell everyone _you_ tossed _me_ aside.” He offered, since pride was the only possible reason he could think of for such a bizarre question.

“ _Hah!_ ” Sif shouted in derisive mockery. “As if _anyone_ would believe that! What _possible reason_ would I have for ending this?”

“Because you can’t stand me.” Loki informed her. “Which, by the way, _is_ mutual.” He assured her, and she flinched from the words like they hadn’t been making it obvious for _years_ that they didn’t get along.

“I thought-” Sif began, then she stopped and shook her head. She turned, but not before Loki saw the tears filling her eyes. “Never mind. If that’s- I should have known this would happen, but you- I should have remembered what a good liar you are.” She spat out bitterly, without looking around at him.

“Well, yes. But I’m struggling to remember a lie I told that’s applicable here.” Loki retorted.

“Oh, don’t play stupid, Loki.” Sif snarled, whirling around. Loki just waited, his eyebrows raised with pointed question and his hands spread wide in a dramatic shrug to emphasise his complete confusion. Sif laughed in disbelief, completely mirthless, and shot him a deeply unimpressed look. “You let me believe that I could have _this_.” She gestured between them.

Loki really hoped this conversation would start making sense soon. “You can. Well, you could.” He stated.

“ _Obviously not!_ ” Sif yelled. “If even _you_ , with all your _pretty lies_ about wrong being right and appreciating strong women, can’t stand a woman like me, then-! I thought, for a while, that maybe I _wasn’t_ destined to be alone.” She announced, glaring at Loki with something awfully close to hatred. “I’d have rather you just left me alone, than give me hope only to take it away again.”

Something occurred to Loki, then, that put the conversation into a whole new light. “I’m sorry, are you implying you thought this was going to be permanent?” He asked, too gobsmacked to put any of the derision that was bubbling up into his voice.

“Of course I did! There’s never going to be anyone _else_! I have no soulmark!” Sif cried.

“ _I do!_ ” Loki retorted, pulling the collar of his tunic down to bare the twisting, elegant sunrise etched across the base of his throat. “How could you _possibly_ think that _we_ were going to last when you _knew_ I have someone to wait for?!”

Sif looked at him like she was finding this conversation just as confusing as he was. It was small comfort. “You have _two_.” She corrected. “You have two people bonded to you, what’s one more?!”

Loki recoiled, for once completely robbed of words by the pain and disgust rising up in his throat. Sif didn’t seem to realise what she’d just said, and the longer she continued to stare at him, watery-eyed but still raging and bitter, the angrier he got. “I haven’t met my soulmates yet,” he began, in a low, vicious tone laced with poison, “I know nothing about them, and I still know you’re not fit to lick mud from their boots. You’re _pathetic_ , panting after me because you’re so _desperate_ to be loved, you’d settle for the _lie_ of it. Well, unfortunately, you were _never_ anything more than a way to pass the time. And you’re not even good for that. You’re _predictable_. You’re _boring_. And quite frankly, you’re starting to make me a little bit nauseous. Get out.”

Sif gaped at him in indignant rage for several long, tense seconds. Then she turned, blonde hair whipping through the air, and strode to the door of Loki’s chambers, the hem of her cornflower blue dress snapping around her ankles. She hauled the door open so hard it banged against the wall, and then paused, and turned to look over her shoulder. “You’re _heartless_ , Loki.” She spat with an impressive level of venom.

“At least I’m not _soulless_ like _you_.” Loki retorted, and that was what finally sent tears cascading down Sif’s cheeks. She fled, and Loki turned his back on the open door, blind rage building in his chest until he couldn’t hold it in any more. He lashed out, and a wave of green fire engulfed his grand bed.

At some point while he was watching it burn, his mother came in. She took one look at the raging inferno and sighed “Oh, Loki.” as she stepped up behind him and hugged him. Loki leaned back into her, face contorting with anger that wasn’t working to mask his pain anymore.

“She said ‘what’s one more’.” Loki told Frigga, aiming to sound clinical and detached and falling just a little short. “I thought she _understood_.”

“She’s lonely, and scared, and lost.” Frigga reminded him gently. “She doesn’t see as clearly as you, into the minds of others. She can’t see that they’re wrong, and that hurts her. And she took it out on you, which wasn’t fair.” She stated soothingly. “But don’t hate her for that, Loki. She’s trying to understand, she just doesn’t know how.”

“I thought I could help her.” Loki confessed quietly. “I thought, if I showed her that it didn’t have to be the way everyone said it does, that she could…”

“What works for you may not always work for another, Loki.” Frigga chided gently. “You found yourself in wandering, in new places and new people, but I think… I think Sif can only find herself here. You are as different as air and earth, where you found yourself in freedom, she can only find the truth of her own nature by digging roots and standing firm.”

“I want her to.” Loki announced.

He felt Frigga smile against his hair. “I know.”

“Not for her.” Loki corrected, perfectly matter-of-fact. “I’m too angry to care on _her_ behalf. I… I want her to throw it in their faces because they deserve to have all their assumptions overturned. It’s only that… I’m more angry at them for creating this than I am at her for going along with it. Does that make sense?”

“Perfectly.” Frigga agreed, although she sounded a little sad.

The next time Loki saw Sif, at yet another banquet held by his father, she ignored him completely, which wouldn’t have bothered him in the slightest if it hadn’t been for the way she was acting with everyone _else_. He had never seen her so friendly with _anyone_ before, but now she was making small talk and listening to the warrior’s boasts, she was smiling at every man and giggling with the other girls, acting perfectly sweet and vapid. Loki left early, unable to stomach watching her for the rest of the evening.

The following day, Loki was preparing for another trip, thinking that perhaps getting away from Asgard for a while would help sooth his hurts and cool his temper, when Thor burst into his room, looking distinctly unnerved. “Brother, help me.” He pleaded by way of a greeting.

Loki put down the throwing knives he’d been inspecting and cleaning to study his brother, but he didn’t see anything particularly amiss. “With what?” He asked curiously.

“ _Sif_.” Thor said her name like she was a more scary than a bilgesnipe.

Loki’s face went hard and cold. “She’s not my concern anymore.” He announced harshly, but while Thor was blinking at him in surprise, his curiosity overtook him. “What could she have possibly done to unsettle you like this?” He asked, a touch incredulous. Thor would bluster and fake confidence even in the face of the dragons of Alfheim, even though one could roast him before he’d even drawn his sword.

“She’s being _nice_.” Thor informed him.

It took Loki a moment to understand, but then he got it. Sif had been acting the same way she had been last night at Thor. “Yes. Apparently, she’d rather cave to the whims of the ignorant than admit she might be _different_. As if that’s such a terrible thing.” He spat venomously.

“You two… have ended your affair?” Thor asked in concern.

“Didn’t you hear us screaming at each other last time she and her family visited?” Loki wondered. Thor shrugged, and Loki rolled his eyes, but answered the question anyway. “Yes. And honestly, if I see her face again at the moment, I think I’ll do something very unkind to her, and then Mother would be mad.”

Finally, Thor noticed the bag Loki had been packing, the weapons he’d been preparing. His eyes lit up. “You are going on a trip? Where to, brother?” He asked, eager and utterly transparent. Loki didn’t think he was _ever_ going to be a good politician. Well, that was why he had Loki, wasn’t it, he thought smugly.

“I was considering Vanaheim. They’re having a bit of a problem with giant aurochs, and I think a little hunt could be fun.” Loki answered. “It should help me get my mind off her.”

“You’re right!” Thor agreed. “We can bring one or two back for a feast!”

“Why, yes, Thor, you _may_ come with me.” Loki stated, pointedly polite and conversational. “No, Thor, you may _not_ bring the others. I’m doing this to get _away_ from Asgard, so I do not want to bring it with me when I go.” Thor had the decency to look a little sheepish at that, but shrugged it off almost at once, and hurried away to pack.

The trip itself _was_ fun. Getting Thor without his groupies was almost as good as getting away from Sif, for Loki. His brother relaxed a little when he didn’t feel like he needed to impress his friends, and the teasing stopped being quite so hurtful. When they returned, with the already prepared carcasses of two great aurochs for the palace kitchens to cook, Loki actually felt good about their return. Odin was proud of their spoils, and ordered a feast that evening in their honour.

Loki was almost having fun, enough so that he ignored the jabs Thor’s friends were making at his use of magic, and instead focused on their enthusiasm for grand tales, which had always been his talent. He got to tell the stories his way, and he drew in a large audience with his skilful weaving of words, painting images so vivid he didn’t even _need_ to conjure little mirages to bolster his storytelling. He did anyway, because he _could_ , and most were too enraptured to mutter disparagingly about it, which Loki counted as a distinctive win.

They ate and drank and then the sparring started up. None of it was serious, and given that half the people in the hall were already drunk, the bouts were more often hilarious than concerning. Thor dove right in, and even half drunk and high on a successful hunt, he won five bouts in a row, strutting slightly lopsidedly back to Loki with a ridiculously smug grin on his face when he needed to catch his breath.

That was when Sif approached, pointedly avoiding Loki’s gaze by focusing on Thor. Loki rolled his eyes and looked away as he heard her say “You fought well, Prince Thor.”

“Thank you!” Thor exclaimed, over-exuberant in his tipsy state. “In truth,” he said in a voice he obviously thought was quiet, but actually wasn’t, “it was not all that hard.” This drew a quiet little laugh out of Sif. “They’re all drunk, anyway.”

“As if you’re not.” Loki remarked, rolling his eyes.

“I’m sure Prince Thor could beat them all even if he was drunk as a fish and they were stone sober.” Sif riposted mildly, still refusing to look at Loki.

“Hah! Of course I could!” Thor agreed, meeting Sif’s gaze and offering her a winsome smile. It was as Sif ducked her head shyly at that grin that Loki realised that she wasn’t just being friendly, she was _flirting_ with Thor.

As Sif drew Thor into retelling his bouts, Loki studied her in complete confusion which slowly grew to frustration for too many reasons to count. It was a petty dig at him, her choosing _Thor_ as her rebound, and it annoyed him all the more that it was actually _working_ a little. He also _knew_ that he had told her that Thor would be more impressed by a strong-willed woman than she gave him credit for, and yet she was trying to gain his attention by being the exact opposite, which was stupid enough to annoy Loki on principle. Then there was the fact that she was still acting the vapid lady of the court, and he could see the dullness in her eyes already, and he hated her more than a little for letting them win.

It wasn’t long before Loki reached breaking point, and he spent the rest of the evening considering his options for reminding Sif who she really was. And hopefully upsetting her in the process, because Loki wasn’t that magnanimous. The answer came to him towards the end of the evening, as he was watching Sif saying a fond goodnight to Thor while coyly twirling a strand of her golden hair around her finger.

Just before dawn that night, Loki snuck into the guest rooms Sif’s family were occupying, and with a twist of his fingers and a little flare of green light, every last strand of Sif’s beautiful golden locks fell out. He completed his curse with one last elegant piece of magic, a failsafe that he wove so tightly under Sif’s skin that there would be no hope of reversing it, and left without a sound.

The next morning, half the palace was woken by Sif’s scream when she awoke to discover that hair – praised by the entire court as her most beautiful feature, which was saying something, for even in Asgard, few compared to Sif’s beauty – had fallen out, to the very last strand. Loki watched, unnoticed, as Sif’s mother rushed her to the healers, a shawl over Sif’s head to hide the loss from any casual eyes. Sauntering after them, Loki approached the healer’s wing just in time to hear the head healer send a novice to fetch Frigga.

Of course, while Loki could hide himself from everyone else, Frigga knew he was there, and the look she gave him as she passed him was enough to tell Loki she knew this was his doing. Shrugging to himself, Loki followed her to the door of the healer’s wing and leant against the doorjamb to watch. Sif was seated, looking scared and confused, while her mother held her hand and wept and the healers bustled around her.

“Let me see, dear.” Frigga said kindly, and Sif managed a tremulous smile as the Queen ran a hand over her bald head, sensing the magic underneath. She clucked her tongue. “I can reverse this, don’t worry.” She assured Sif, who sagged in relief and smiled much more sincerely this time. It took Frigga several minutes to pull apart the spell, fingers glowing with soft pastel blue light as she worked, and then it was done, and Sif’s hair began to re-grow at an unnatural rate.

However, the strands that grew in were not golden, but black. Sif’s mother was the first to notice, as Frigga had her eyes closed in concentration, and she gasped. “Something is wrong, your majesty!” She exclaimed fretfully.

Frigga looked down, the magic in her hands faltering. Sif’s hair stopped growing abnormally fast, and Sif tugged on the ends, which just barely brushed her shoulders now instead of hanging half way down her back, and pulled a lock in front of her eyes. “I’m afraid this is all I can do.” Frigga sighed apologetically.

While Sif’s mother was busy insisting that there must be something _someone_ could do, Loki allowed Sif to see him, and her eyes snapped to him, narrowing with intense dislike. Loki spread his arms and bowed shallowly to her. “Now you’ll never be able to pretend you’re anything other than what you are.” He informed her, voice soft with cruel pleasure.

“And what is _that_?!” Sif spat, though she too kept quiet. “Like you?” She guessed mockingly.

Loki gave her a disparaging look. “Please. You are _nothing_ like me, and we both know it.”

Sif made an agreeing noise, though she gave him a look that informed him quite eloquently that she took that as a compliment. “What, then?” She demanded, lifting her chin and glaring at him with all the spirit and fight that had caught Loki’s eye in the first place.

“Different.” Loki whispered sharply. Then he turned to go, leaving Sif to glare in angry confusion after his retreating back.

Sif’s family left without fanfare that morning, and Loki endured a sound telling off from his mother that had very little impact at all on his feelings of vindictive triumph. He only wound up feeling even more smug when, nearly a whole year later, the next time Sif’s family visited there were two pretty blonde young ladies, one handsome blonde boy, and one dark-haired warrior with defiance in her eyes and pride in her stance.

“I still hate you.” Sif informed him, not a single ounce of her ferocity hidden away.

Loki dipped his head to her, biting back laughter that was only partially mocking. “The feeling is mutual, my dear Sif” He assured her. With one last glare, she stalked away to speak to Thor, who seemed much more at ease in her presence now that she was both a fellow warrior and no longer flirting with him. Loki decided to leave them to it.

Life went on, years and then centuries passed, and though there were moments that Loki found himself feeling content, restless dissatisfaction was by far his most common state of being. It all came to a head when Odin announced his intention to crown Thor before his next lapse into the Odinsleep. Loki couldn’t believe that Odin would suggest it, but worse was the way everyone else just went along with it. Even Frigga.

It had just been meant to be a little wake up call, but then everything was spiralling out of control and Loki found himself hanging off the broken remains of the rainbow bridge with everything in ruins and Odin admitting, in the plainest language possible and right to his face, that Loki would never be worth his approval.

He let go. He fell.

The fall had been meant to kill him. He shouldn’t have been able to survive that wormhole, but something stubborn in him reared it’s head and forced him to hold himself together through sheer force of will.

He fell all the way into Thanos’s clutches. Battered, broken, and beaten, he was brought to kneel before the Mad Titan, and that stubborn streak in him that had never known when to quit flared to life in him like a wildfire. Thanos did not recognise him as Loki, but he was familiar enough with Asgard to know one who had been raised there, and he gloated. He was smart enough not to detail all his plans, but Loki was sharper than he was being credit for. He knew how to read between the lines.

When Loki realised that Thanos, in his search for the Infinity Gems, would be heading towards the Nine Realms, Loki began to scheme. He had no desire to see Thanos wielding the power of the Infinity Gems – he knew the Mad Titan by reputation, and he knew it would spell disaster for the universe if he ever managed to reunite the six Gems – but he wasn’t particularly interested in dying a martyr’s death in the dingiest corner of the universe, either.

Working with Thanos would get him closer to home, back in familiar territory, where he could plan his escape from the Mad Titan with much more hope for success. And if he got the opportunity to cause some of Thanos’s plans to blow up in his face on his way out, well. Loki was never one to miss an opportunity.

So he bargained, told Thanos the version of his story that made him seem the most vulnerable to manipulation, and offered his services, for a price. Thanos offered him a throne, on Midgard, and it took most of Loki’s acting skills not to laugh in his face. Even the natives couldn’t rule that planet, an invading outsider had no hope. He didn’t tell Thanos that, however, and accepted, thinking instead of the look on Thor’s face when he got wind of this, and let that vicious satisfaction colour his expression.

Loki really knew better than to think Thanos would just send him off without a leash, but he was still annoyed when the Other presented him with the sceptre. Mainly because there was nothing worse than having a leash on his mind. It would make all of his plans that much harder to execute, since he’d have to trick _himself_ into believing the farce. It was also, just fractionally, because he was a little insulted that Thanos was so confident that Loki was just as weak a personality as he’d presented himself that Thanos could send him off with an Infinity Gem as if he thought he would _ever_ see it again afterwards. Still, Loki took the sceptre, allowed the foreign presence to wrap around his thoughts – although not his most private ones, those he protected with the barest scraps of magic he had left to him – and they began to prepare for his journey across the universe to conquer Midgard.

* * *

The initial attack, and the theft of the Tesseract, took more energy than Loki would like to admit. Travelling from one end of the galaxy to the other took what little reserves of magic he had left, even with the Tesseract doing most of the work. Loki knew he needed sleep and sustenance, but that he barely had time. Still, after a nap and a great deal of food, Loki got back to business. His first task was reconnaissance, so he found Agent Barton and picked his brains about the opposition they were likely to face.

“Well, SHIELD’s going to be the most immediate threat.” Agent Barton decided clinically. He tilted his head, thoughtful. “Fury’s probably going to go with the Avengers Initiative, even though it was supposed to be shut down. That’d be Captain America, Iron Man and the Hulk. Other than that, we’ll have an army or several gunning for us when this gets out.”

“The Avengers Initiative?” Loki questioned, amused.

Agent Barton nodded. “Superheroes, basically. The way things have been going the last few years, Fury knew that sooner or later humanity’d be going up against something that we wouldn’t have a hope of stopping with guns and armies and bullets. Then they de-iced Captain America, the world’s first superhero, and Fury figured having a strike team of superheroes would be a good failsafe.” He explained.

“Yes, I recall hearing about this Captain America.” Loki remarked, pulling a face. “So they discovered he was alive after all?” Agent Barton didn’t even look surprised that Loki was familiar with Midgardian culture, just nodded mechanically. Loki bit back his distaste for the sceptre he was wielding before it could fully register, and pressed on. “Tell me about them.”

Agent Barton obliged, first detailing everything he knew about Captain America, which overlaid Loki’s own knowledge of Midgard’s World Wars and the American propaganda _still_ being spouted about Captain America. What Loki found more interesting were the reports Agent Barton quoted from Steve Roger’s most recent evaluations with SHIELD. Apparently the man was depressed, displaced and struggling to find himself in this new time. Physically, he was in peak condition, psychologically, he was a wreck.

“Useful to know.” Loki acknowledged, already spinning plans about how to really get under the man’s skin. “And this Iron Man? I haven’t heard anything about him.”

“He’s much more recent. This billionaire, Tony Stark, got kidnapped-”

“Tony Stark?” Loki interrupted in surprised, ruthlessly squashing the little pang of melancholic nostalgia that flared at the name.

Agent Barton nodded, then continued without commenting on Loki’s perfectly redundant question. “Yeah, he built himself this high-tech suit of armour to escape the terrorist cell that kidnapped him. Left nothing but ashes behind him on his way out. Came back to find out that it was his surrogate father who’d hired the hit on him.”

“Stane.” Loki murmured, remembering brief glimpses of the man.

“Yeah.” Agent Barton confirmed. He continued to detail Tony Stark’s subsequent rise to fame, his ‘privatisation of world peace’ and his psych reports from SHIELD. He had far more detail on those than he did on the good Captain, which he explained was because of his close relationship with the Agent who’d been sent to investigate Stark. When pressed, he told Loki about Natasha Romanoff, and for the first time, Loki saw a flicker of genuine emotion from the man. Underneath his mental shields, he felt a hint of relief that he had chosen well. This Agent would not let the sceptre’s power break him, unlike the scientist he’d absconded with, who was already enthralled by both the gem in the sceptre _and_ the Tesseract both.

Loki very carefully did not think about any of the details of where his knowledge of Tony Stark came from. He especially didn’t think about Peter. If there was one thing he wouldn’t be able to bear, it was Thanos discovering that particular pressure point of his. Instead, he redirected his attention to the last on Agent Barton’s list, and focused on the tale he spun of a man and his very literal inner beast.

Plans within plans came together in Loki’s mind, and then – after another nap and a report to the Other – came the time to enact them. Playing the man known to Midgard as Captain America was almost too easy to be any fun at all, but then Loki found himself being blasted off his feet and confronted with Iron Man. He couldn’t fully suppress the visceral want that such an impressive sight – both the devastation he knew was being aimed at him _and_ the ingenuity behind the technology he was being threatened with – but it fitted enough with the lie that it didn’t worry him.

He wasn’t even that worried when Agent Romanoff managed to out-manoeuvre him. Impressed, certainly, and with the sceptre no longer so close at hand, he even allowed himself to indulge the feeling, even if he didn’t let himself focus on exactly why he was so pleased about her astuteness. Everything was going perfectly according to plan.

Then Tony Stark stepped out of his suit in his own penthouse, and when Loki touched the sceptre to his chest, the device beneath glowed momentarily brighter and stole Loki’s breath. He had hoped, behind his shields, that the device – an Arc Reactor, Agent Barton had called it – would be incompatible with the magic of the gem, but he had never dreamed that he would see _that_ shining back at him on _someone else’s chest_.

He did it again, just to make sure, and the pattern that flared to life beneath Tony’s shirt for a moment was as familiar to Loki as his own breath.

That train of thought got shut down hard, before it could leak past the barriers and register to the interlopers inside Loki’s head. He focused on something else instead, pretending his sudden shock and fear and confusion was because the sceptre hadn’t worked, instead of because of what it had revealed to him.

It was only the knowledge of JARVIS’s presence that allowed Loki to take the risk of tossing Tony out the window. He had a ruse to maintain, a watchful presence looking out through his own eyes, but even that was not worth Tony’s life. Not now that he knew.

Thor turning up was almost a relief. Somewhere to direct all the new fear and rage and desperation. Someone to _hurt_ for the position Loki had suddenly found himself in. It was a good thing that there was a battle to focus on, because anything short of that, and Loki really wasn’t sure he would have been able to keep his attention off Tony Stark. But getting blown out of the sky and smashed to pieces by an enormous green monster were really very good at diverting his focus and keeping it on the here and now.

Loki felt it when the sceptre was driven through the barrier and forced to make contact with the Tesseract. He felt the snap of the Gem’s leash on his mind breaking, and the relief drew a tiny breathless laugh out of him that immediately became a groan of pain. Still, he wasn’t dead, his mind was his own, and he had finally – at long last – found a soulmate.

The Avengers found him again just as he was pulling himself out of the crater on the floor, and Loki deliberated on the best way to make Tony aware of his revelation. “If it’s all the same to you,” he managed to get out, “I’ll have that drink now.” It was wholly worth it for the tiny, reluctant smirk he saw pulling at the corner of Tony’s lips.

Then Thor stepped forward and slapped cuffs and a muzzle on him. Loki glared at his once-brother with every ounce of furious hatred he had in him, and couldn’t even take satisfaction in watching him jerk back defensively. Loki needed his words, needed to speak to Tony, and now he couldn’t. He wasn’t sure what fate awaited him in Asgard, but there was a high probability that if he left Midgard now, he would not return within Tony’s lifespan.

He was left to stew in his resentment overnight, considering and discarding many plans for somehow getting the chance to speak to Tony. Two words was all he would need, he decided, and then he could leave the rest to Tony. None of his plans were wholly practical, but one or two seemed like they might – just might – get him results. It would all depend on SHIELD and Thor, and in the meantime, Loki simply had to wait.

The next day he was brought out to Central Park, where Thor was waiting for him and the Tesseract. Loki had been planning to make trouble until reinforcements were called in, but it turned out he didn’t need to. The other Avengers were already there. Loki scanned the approaching faces for Stark, and saw him climbing out of a sports car, looking like he hadn’t stopped to sleep since the battle. It was not, exactly, a surprise. Loki knew Tony well enough to know his coping mechanisms rarely included sleep.

What did surprise him was the fierce determination in his stride, and that the first words out of his mouth were “Hey, Point Break, I need a word with Tall Dark and Evil here before you cart him off to wherever the hell.” The other Avengers all looked taken aback, but Loki smiled. It seemed he didn’t need to orchestrate anything.

Tony noticed. His eyes narrowed, but whatever he might have said was cut off by Thor. “Loki’s words are just as dangerous as any weapon in his hands, Stark.” He warned solemnly.

“Yeah, which is why I’m confused.” Tony retorted. “Muzzle off. Now. Come on.” He snapped impatiently, gesturing in the air.

“Tony, I don’t think that’s a good idea-”

“Do you, or do you not, want to know who was _really_ behind this?” Tony demanded, turning on Captain Rogers before he had a chance to finish his sentence. Impressed, Loki felt a surge of appreciation for the brilliant man, as all the other Avengers went from puzzled to outright wary. Tony didn’t wait for an answer to his question. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“You cannot trust a word Loki says.” Thor warned.

“See, I’m actually wondering about that.” Tony shot back, glaring at Loki suspiciously. “I mean, sure, if he was _actually_ trying to take over the planet with whoever, I wouldn’t expect him to give ‘em up, but I don’t think he was.”

Loki beamed, thoroughly impressed.

“What are you saying, Stark?” Agent Romanoff asked sharply.

Tony glanced at her, then looked back at Loki. “I’m saying I had a look at that portal device last night. I’ve been working on it for hours, and I noticed something. There was a _limit_ on how big the portal could get. Deliberately built in. I saw the Chitauri mothership when I went through that portal and-” Tony cut himself off, frowning at Loki, who knew his horror must be showing on his face. Loki had seen nightmares, falling through a tear in reality like that portal. Knowing that Tony may have caught a glimpse of that was something he didn’t want to contemplate. “What the hell, Rudolf?” He asked, alight with suspicion and curiosity.

Loki lifted his hands and tapped a finger against his muzzle, then spread his hands in a deliberately helpless gesture. Tony immediately turned impatient eyes on Thor who, scowling, reached up and removed Loki’s muzzle. For a moment, Loki simply closed his eyes and breathed, enjoying the unimpeded ease of it. Then he opened his eyes again to look at Tony, studying him, and found his gaze drawn, irresistibly, to the faintest outline of light shining through his shirt. He looked back up, met Tony’s eyes and gave him the same flirtatious look he had the first time they’d met. “Nice Gallifreyan.”

It was fascinating to watch, the way Tony’s whole face went slack with shock and incomprehension. Then his eyes widened with the beginnings of understanding. The recollection of another face – similar enough that there could be no mistake now that the connection had been drawn, despite the difference in gender – and of those words between them. He could see as Tony pieced everything together, the realisation that Loki’s species did not have human soulmarks, that there was no other explanation for Tony’s invention to have been etched on someone else’s skin before he even dreamed of it.

Then Tony stepped forwards, reached up to curl a hand around the back of Loki’s neck, and yanked him down into a kiss. The shouts of the other Avengers faded into the background as Loki’s eyes fluttered shut and his hands came up to cradle Tony’s face. He pressed in close, kissed harder, unable to quite help himself even as the Avengers’ protests got louder and more demanding.

Tony leaned back, but only far enough to give them both room to breathe, their foreheads still touching. “You’re _late_ , you _asshole_.” He stated with feeling. Loki laughed; breathless, incredulous, and delighted. “I should have fucking known. I liked you way too much for any other explanation.”

“ _STARK!_ ”

Tony jerked his head back a little, looking irritated and maybe a little sheepish. “What?” He retorted, turning to face Captain Rogers. “Can’t you see I’m a bit busy?” He added, gesturing between himself and Loki. The god smirked and bit back laughter, his smile only broadening when it earned him several mistrustful looks.

“You’d better start explaining fast, Stark.” Agent Romanoff warned, one hand on the gun strapped to her side. Even though her words were directed at Tony, her eyes never left Loki, and her expression remained hard and suspicious.

“Yeah, seriously, _what the fuck_?!” Agent Barton interjected, outright glaring at Tony.

Tony rolled his eyes, and Loki could tell he was just itching to draw this out and make them work for it, but Loki really didn’t feel like getting shot while he was _still_ trying to heal the damage the Hulk had done. “You are familiar with the concept of soulmates, yes?” He interjected as patronisingly as he could manage.

Neither Romanoff or Barton looked convinced, but it was Rogers who spoke. “Are you honestly trying to suggest that you’ve known Stark is your soulmate since _Stuttgart_ , and you let the Chitauri through _anyway_?” He demanded with righteous indignation.

“No, I’ve known Tony was my soulmate since I tried to take over his mind mere moments before the portal opened, and by then it was _far_ too late to change my plans.” Loki corrected, impatience turning his words biting. “You are making the remarkably arrogant assumption that because _your_ soulmarks work a certain way, they must work that way in the rest of the universe, as well. Which they do _not_ , as anyone who has given the subject even a moment of thought could tell you.” He added.

“And, you know, that time in Stuttgart was not actually the first thing I ever said to Loki anyway.” Tony tacked on, before Rogers could even begin to muster a response. “So even if Asgardian-”

“Jotun.” Loki corrected softly.

Tony glanced at him, and Loki had the horrid feeling he was seeing more than he would have liked, but Tony didn’t comment, just corrected himself and carried on. “Even if Jotun soulmarks were the same as human ones, he wouldn’t have figured it out in Stuttgart. He would have figured it out, what? Nearly two decades ago?”

“You’ve met him _before_?!” Barton yelped indignantly.

Romanoff glared at Tony. “Why didn’t you mention that?”

Tony threw his hands in the air. “Because I didn’t _know_.” He protested. “He was very much female at the time, okay? It’s not as if I go around _expecting_ ex-lovers to switch genders and then try to take over the world!”

There was a moment of stunned silence. “Alright.” Romanoff said slowly. “Assuming we accept that all this is true; I thought Pepper was your soulmate, Stark.” She stated, one eyebrow arching in judgement.

“She is.” Tony confirmed.

Loki felt a little surge of hope, and couldn’t quite stop himself asking “Pepper?”

Tony turned to him, looking pleased at first, grinning easily, but then something seemed to occur to him and his happiness became a little more like mischievous, childish glee. “Our other soulmate.” He informed Loki, eyes dropping to the base of Loki’s throat, where his armour mostly hid that soulmark from sight. “You’ve actually met her.” He continued, returning his gaze to Loki’s face to beam at him. “ _Ages_ ago. Like, only a few years after you met _me_ , in fact. You’re really bad at this whole ‘finding your soulmate’ thing, you know.”

Loki was just about to press Tony for more details when he was interrupted not by Romanoff or Rogers, but by Banner. Despite his annoyance, Loki was still wary enough of the man that he didn’t let it show. “Wait, hold on a second, Tony.” Banner stalled, holding up a hand. “Are you saying that- that you have _two_ soulmates?”

“Yes.” Tony confirmed.

“…That’s not possible.” Banner said, though he sounded more like he was repeating it because he’d heard it so many times than because he actually believed it.

Loki was still irritated by it enough to snap “In Alfheim, it is not uncommon for one to have as many as six or seven soulmarks. I assure you that multiple soulmarks _are_ possible.” Banner looked a little sheepish, which did sooth some of Loki’s ruffled feathers.

“You got shit for it, too, huh?” Tony asked sympathetically. Loki merely pulled a face, but Tony understood and grimaced in return. “And anyway, it’s _also_ fully possible for a human to have two soulmates. My parents had a triple bond before their third went and died on them. Apparently, it’s a Stark thing.” He explained.

“Oh.” Banner murmured, looking stunned. So, for that matter, did just about every other mortal there, although, as always, it was hard to read on Romanoff’s face.

“Now that that’s settled, perhaps you can tell me more about this Pepper?” Loki questioned of Tony, unable to leave it any longer when he was burning with curiosity. The knowledge that he had already met _both_ of his soulmates and not even known, that he might have _missed them_ , their lives being mortal and so, so short, was weighing heavily on his heart.

“Uh-huh. You’d know her as Virginia, though.” Tony informed him. “Virginia-”

“-Potts.” Loki finished, his fingers jumping to the mark nestled in the hollow above his collarbones, hidden as it was under metal and leather. “I remember. Yes, that- It fits her.” He decided.

“Yeah.” Tony agreed, a little breathless. His eyes were slightly glazed, as though he was reviewing his memory of Loki’s soulmark. “That’s her. Definitely.” He confirmed, sounding slightly awed by his own conviction. Then he cleared his throat. “You should come meet her. Right now.” He decided.

“Stark-” Romanoff began warningly.

“I must still return Loki to Asgard to face justice-” Thor added.

Tony held up a hand, his expression suddenly hard. “One?” He started, holding up the corresponding finger. “Loki is not going _anywhere_ until he’s talked to Pepper. Two? Loki is absolutely not standing trial without the best legal representation money can buy. Who have been brought up to speed on Asgardian law.” He tacked on as an after thought. “Three? I have spent the last nineteen years missing this asshole, and the last twelve missing him _twice over_ without knowing it. I _am_ going to spend _at least_ one whole forty-eight hours with _the literal other parts of my soul_ before we start trying to deal with this shitstorm.” He concluded fiercely.

It seemed to take several minutes for the Avengers to fully absorb that little rant. In all fairness, Loki was feeling a little overwhelmed himself, but it wasn’t out of shock. “Thank you, Tony.” He murmured, letting genuine appreciation show through his usual masks.

“Of course.” Tony shot back, with a vaguely uncomfortable shrug.

“You would truly stand beside him, despite all he has done to your world?” Thor asked, and although he didn’t sound particularly accusatory, Loki still bristled at the question. Tony shot Thor an unimpressed look, but Thor didn’t accept that as an answer. “He has killed many, your friend included. Does that not bother you?”

“Oh, I’m sure Pepper will have some choice words to say about Phil. And _I_ have some things to say about _certain other parties_ who _live in New York_ whose life Loki put in _unnecessary danger_ -” Tony announced pointedly. While the other Avengers looked baffled and curious, Loki himself couldn’t quite hide his wince.

“Is he-?” He managed to get out past the sudden fear.

Tony shot him a hard look that softened as he took in the slightly cracked open expression on Loki’s face. “He’s fine.” Tony conceded after a moment. Loki tipped his head back, eyes closed, and let himself breathe for a moment. “ _Luckily_.” Tony stressed.

Loki swallowed. “Had he been killed, I would have brought him back. My cousin owes me a favour, just enough to permit me to retrieve one soul.” He informed Tony softly, and the anger finally left Tony’s gaze.

“Should have figured you’d have a back-up plan.” Tony accepted wryly. He looked back at the other Avengers who, while they didn’t seem to fully comprehend, were noticeably less hostile after witnessing that conversation. “My point was; I will happily call Loki out on his shit all day, but I probably have just as much blood on my hands as he does, and I’m not going to give up on him just because he’s fucked up a couple of times. I’m not that much of a hypocrite.”

Thor looked rather like he’d just been punched squarely in the face. After struggling to find his voice for several seconds, he nodded jerkily. “I shall delay for a few days.”

“Good. I’ll have Dr Foster flown in or something.” Tony offered in return, his tone so nonchalant he almost managed to make it sound like it wasn’t a big deal. “You can get these shackles off, right?” He continued on, gesturing at Loki’s hands before glancing over his shoulder at his two-seater sports car. “Huh… Bruce, you have a licence, right?” He checked, already fishing out the keys to toss to Bruce, who caught them on pure instinct. “I’ll call Happy, have him come pick me and Loki up.”

Tony already had his phone out and ringing, when Bruce managed. “Uh, no, I don’t have a licence.”

“Hey, Happy. – Yeah, I need a lift- No, I know you work for Pepper now, but trust me, she’d want you to come pick me up.” Tony said into the phone, then put his hand over the bottom of it to talk to Bruce. “You _can_ drive, though, right?” He checked, but didn’t wait for Bruce’s nod before he was back to talking to Happy. “No, nobody’s dead and no, the car didn’t blow up. Bruce is taking it. – Why do you always assume it’s something I’ve done- No, wait, don’t answer that question, just get here. – Yeah, yeah, I owe you. I’ll get Pepper to give you a raise.” He declared, then hung up.

There was a small silence as Thor finally stepped forwards and released Loki from the cuffs that were more for restraining his magic than keeping him immobilised. The moment they snapped open, Loki felt the reassuring rush of his magic beneath his skin, and diverted most of it into repairing the damage the Hulk had done. He did allow himself to use a little for the simple pleasure of shifting into his female form.

Tony grinned at her. “You know I think you’re sexy either way, right?” He checked.

“Mm.” Loki hummed her amusement and agreement, and shrugged easily. “I had noticed. This form is as much mine as the other, and much more comfortable when I’m at less than full strength. There are weapons I can only utilise in this form, after all.” She added, with a small, acknowledging dip of her head to Natasha.

Instead of answering Loki’s words, Natasha chose to nod at the now-mostly-visible sigils on Loki’s chest. “Those are your soulmarks?” She asked mildly, and at Loki’s nod she half-smirked. “They suit them.” She acknowledged.

“That’s rather the point.” Loki pointed out.

“How do- uh, you said they’re Jotun soulmarks?” Banner interjected, hesitant but visibly too curious to let it go. Loki nodded, watching the man with a careful, wary puzzlement. “How do Jotuns recognise their soulmates?” He asked.

“In most of the Nine Realms, soulmarks look like this.” Loki informed him. “And most races would recognise their sigil on sight. It is… the essence of the soul, distilled and described in the language of magic. It is – for most races in the Nine Realms – more attention-grabbing and familiar than having your full name shouted across a room.”

“Are you saying humans are dumb?” Tony asked in mock offence, eyebrows arching.

“Not exactly.” Loki corrected, tilting her head and smirking at him. “More that they’re not yet fully self-aware. Humanity is still very, very young compared to the rest of us.”

Both Tony and Banner looked like they wanted to ask more questions, but before they could, Barton jumped in with a steely expression on his face. “Not that this isn’t really fascinating and all, but am I the only one worried about there being some other big bad we didn’t defeat and may have to worry about in the future?” He prompted.

“Oh, yeah. Good point, Katniss.” Tony agreed, then turned to arch an eyebrow at Loki.

“I was prisoner to the Mad Titan, much as you, Agent Barton, were prisoner to me, although with a much longer leash.” Loki informed them. Of course, only Thor seemed to understand the gravity of the situation, but Barton and Romanoff, though sceptical, did seem a little more willing to feel some degree of understanding towards her.

“The Mad Titan?” Tony questioned.

“His name is Thanos.” Thor replied, voice heavy and sombre. “He is an old enemy of Asgard, in love with Mistress Death and willing to go to great lengths to court her. The annihilation of worlds is very much his style.”

“He is after the Infinity Gems.” Loki interjected, enjoying the way all colour seemed to drain from Thor’s face at the news.

“Okay, I’m lost again.” Tony sighed. “Infinity Gems?”

“Six stones that predate this universe and are fragments of a consciousness too vast to comprehend. They are remarkably powerful alone, but together, they have the power to reshape the universe however the wielder desires.” Loki explained. Then, to help get the gravity of the situation across, she added, “The Tesseract is one, and another resides within the Sceptre Thanos gave me. He is going to be… _very upset_ that it was lost to him.” A cruel smirk twisted her lips at the thought.

The Avengers grilled her for another ten minutes about Thanos and the Infinity Gems, and she did her best not to be _too_ snappish about their lack of knowledge of things outside their own planet. Still, it was a relief when a sleek silver sports car pulled up and Stark put a stop to the conversation with a quick “Gotta go. Somebody else report to Fury because I’m planning to test Jotun endurance of the sexy kind and if he video-calls at the wrong time and gets an eyeful, it’ll be his own damn fault.” He then dragged a laughing Loki off towards the car without a backwards glance.


	4. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By popular demand: A reunion, a ressurection, and some illegal presents.
> 
> Seriously, guys, the response I've had for this has been overwhelming. I'm going through a really rough time at the moment in real life, and your comments and feedback have sometimes been my only reason to smile on a given day. So thank you. So very, very much. Also know that this epilogue would not exist without you all. Every kudos and comment was inspiration to finish this for you.

Concern about Tony Stark was not an alien sensation to JARVIS. Given his programming, and Tony’s habitual self-endangerment, it was actually pretty common, but as he had discovered over the years, repeated exposure to the feeling didn’t in any way lessen it’s potency. He was not alone in his worry, either. Pepper had chosen to wait for Tony’s return in the private ground-floor foyer of Stark Tower rather than the residential floors up above.

JARVIS was keeping most of his own attention with her, and the scanners on the private side entrance, so that he would know the moment Tony returned. Granted, Tony hadn’t sounded injured or distressed on his phone call to Happy, but the sudden change of plans in what should have been a routine hand-off of a criminal _god_ had JARVIS on high alert. Adding in the things Tony had discovered in the lab that morning, his determination to speak with Loki before he left, and his habit of pissing people off, and JARVIS didn’t think his worry was out of proportion.

Of course, instead of returning in any number of states that JARVIS had considered and prepared for, he all but bounced into the tower with a woman on his arm and a glowingly happy expression on his face. JARVIS scanned the woman’s face, and was surprised, but not displeased, to find he recognised her. He was yet more surprised when his scans showed several very key similarities between her and a certain God of Lies.

Pepper had noticed their arrival, too, and managed to get out a baffled “Tony, what-?” before her words failed her.

“Welcome back, sir.” JARVIS interjected. “And I do _believe_ it is good to see you again, Miss Silvers.” There was just a hint of warning in his voice as he spoke, certain events that had transpired in the penthouse were replaying in his subroutines, as well as the view through the HUD of the ground rushing closer and closer to a not-fully-protected Tony Stark.

Loki, for her part, looked delighted and slightly awed. “JARVIS, you’re sounding much more yourself than I remember.” She complimented, finding one of JARVIS’s cameras with surprising accuracy and smiling fondly. A moment later, however, her attention was caught when Pepper stepped up to them, looking confused, and her smile became a little more helpless. “Miss Potts, it’s been far too long.” She greeted, catching Pepper’s hand and raising it to her lips.

JARVIS detected the hitch in Pepper’s breathing and the slightest flush of heat to her face. “So it _is_ you. I thought so. And there’s no point in asking you how you know Tony.” She added, shooting Tony a dryly unimpressed look.

“Pepper, meet Peter’s mother.” Tony interjected.

Pepper’s eyes widened, and she looked back to Loki, who had the grace to look slightly rueful. For a moment, Pepper hesitated, then she crossed her arms across her chest and added “And Lydia’s father.” in a rather grudging tone of voice.

This statement was received in absolute stillness, while JARVIS quietly updated the files he was keeping on the children with this new information. “…Lydia?” Loki finally questioned, sounding just a touch breathless.

“You didn’t mention that before, Pep.” Tony accused, tone mild.

“Yes, well, I didn’t exactly want SHIELD to know that their new most wanted had a perfectly vulnerable teenage daughter who could be used as leverage.” Pepper pointed out, eyes flicking to Tony, who conceded with a nod. Pepper looked back to Loki, expression suddenly turning steely. “Which only wins you so much lenience from me considering you _killed Phil_.” She snapped.

Loki looked alarmed at the sudden hard grief on Pepper’s face, and turned to look at Tony with eyebrows raised. “Phil?” She questioned.

“Coulson. He was the one you impaled.” Tony informed her, voice clipped.

“Ah.” Loki breathed, turning back to Pepper and studying her intently for a moment. “I didn’t realise he was a friend.” She murmured, and JARVIS was relatively certain that it was genuine remorse in her voice. Pepper merely nodded sharply. “…I should be able to bring him back, if you would like?” Loki said finally, clearly hesitant but not actually unwilling.

Pepper’s jaw dropped open. “You… you could do that?” She asked.

“Apparently her cousin owes her one?” Tony told her, glancing at Loki long enough for her to nod. “I’m a little surprised you’d offer, though. Figured that one might be in reserve for family or something?” He prompted.

Loki sighed, looking vaguely petulant. “In more usual circumstances, yes, it would be. But in more usual circumstances, I don’t tend to stab the friends of people important to me without knowing exactly who I’m stabbing. I do not consider ignorance to be a suitable excuse, so I will make what reparations I can, despite the cost to me.” She paused, then smiled a little darkly. “I shall simply have to wheedle another favour out of my cousin at a later date.”

Tony snorted. Pepper, meanwhile, simply looked baffled. Somewhat grateful, but still deeply confused. “People important to you?” She echoed uncertainly.

At that, JARVIS was fascinated to see that Loki looked almost shy, something uncertain hovering at the edges of her expression where she couldn’t quite fully close it off. Before she could get a word out, however, Tony jumped into the conversation again. “You also didn’t mention you thought for a moment he might be your soulmate.” Tony told her.

JARVIS suddenly understood. In the privacy of his servers, he went through all his files on Loki and moved them from hostile to family, while also upping their security and encrypting them, just to be safe. Pepper, being the astute woman that she was, was only moments behind him in her realisation. “I didn’t think it- _Oh_.” She breathed, stunned and gaping a little. “You mean…?”

Smiling faintly, Loki tapped lightly at the soulmark on her neck. “Unfortunately, humans aren’t so good at recognising their soul written out on someone else’s skin, or we wouldn’t have had to wait so long.” She said, sounding vaguely apologetic.

“I- I don’t know what to say.” Pepper breathed, eyes not moving from the mark on Loki’s skin as she tried to adjust. Astutely, Loki didn’t interrupt, and when Tony tried to break the growing silence, she hushed him with a censoring grip on his arm. Pepper’s eyes darted over to that movement, then up to meet Loki’s gaze. “How much trouble are we in?” She asked eventually, startling a laugh out of Loki.

“I’m wanted in Asgard for, probably… treason, inciting war, attempted fratricide, and probably also attempted genocide and the attempted conquering of your planet, for which I’ll most likely be imprisoned for longer than your mortal life-spans. I’m likely wanted in Jotunheim for attempted genocide and a combination patricide and regicide, for which I’ll be summarily executed, if the old regime still holds. Your governments will want me for this invasion, and in all probability will want me locked up in a lab so they can study me before they kill me.” Loki explained, tone perfectly light until she reached the last sentence, and then her voice went tight.

“That’s a lot.” Pepper replied after taking a deep breath.

“Yes, it is.” Loki agreed, smirking unpleasantly. “I also pissed off an intergalactic warlord by sabotaging his invasion of your planet and stealing several very precious items from him. So he will likely be after my blood in a much less political fashion before long.” JARVIS made sure to start compiling a file on the legal mess they were undoubtedly about to become embroiled in.

Pepper opened her mouth, paused, frowned, then narrowed her eyes at Loki. “You lost on purpose?” She asked carefully.

Loki dipped her head elegantly. “I did.”

“I feel a little better about this whole mess, then.” Pepper declared, reaching up to brush her hair out of her face. She seemed a little flustered to JARVIS’s sensors, but nothing that he felt the need to be concerned about. “But we can deal with that in a minute.” She decided abruptly, and then stepped forwards and pulled Loki into a kiss.

Tony’s mouth fell open, his eyes going huge. Then he licked his lips and whimpered quietly. Loki and Pepper obviously heard him, because they broke apart. Pepper was smirking a little, even though her cheeks were flushed slightly, but Loki was grinning. She looked sideways at Tony, biting on her lower lip and letting her teeth drag over it slowly as it slipped from their grip.

“Yes please.” Tony said.

Loki laughed, wicked and throaty, and pressed herself more securely up against Pepper, who blinked in surprise. “Not in the foyer, Tony. But, once we get upstairs, if Pepper is willing, I think I’d like to handcuff you to a chair and make you watch while I take her apart with my mouth.” She announced mildly.

“Sounds good.” Tony blurted out, eager and breathless.

Pepper was going steadily redder as Loki went on, and she cleared her throat under the sound of Tony’s enthusiastic answer, before she added her own response; “I’d be more than willing. I remember your mouth.”

If the way Tony’s expression slackened and glazed over was any indication, he remembered Loki’s mouth, too. Grinning at the response she’d elicited, Loki linked her arm through Pepper’s and guided her towards the elevator, Tony following at their heels. Once they were in the elevator, JARVIS finally dared to interrupt. “Shall I hold all your calls for the foreseeable future, Mr Stark? Miss Potts?” He asked mildly.

“Yeah, absolutely.”

“Yes, please. Thank you, JARVIS.”

* * *

It wasn’t until the very early hours of the morning that JARVIS felt the need to pay more than the most basic of attention to his sensors in the penthouse. He’d been occupied with the return of some of the Avengers – namely Thor and Bruce, as the others had gone back to SHIELD – and deflecting calls from Director Fury.

His name caught his attention, and he focused on Loki, still in female form and sitting curled up on the sofa next to the crater the Hulk had made with her, with a mug of tea in her hand. “Yes, Miss Silvers?” JARVIS replied, for lack of a better way to address her.

It seemed to be the right name, because she smiled warmly in the direction of one of his visual sensors. “Am I correct in thinking that you will be coordinating Mr Stark’s attempts to get me legal aid?” She asked.

“You are.” JARVIS confirmed. “I have already begun compiling data on your situation here, which I believe, with your testimony and Thor’s corroboration about Thanos, should be able to be dealt with fairly easily. However, I lack necessary knowledge about the judicial systems in Asgard and Jotunheim and therefore I cannot begin to prepare an outline for Miss Potts to look over.”

“When I have recovered, I shall retrieve several tomes on the subjects for you and Pepper to look over at your leisure.” Loki offered idly, her face falling into hard lines of calculated thought. “In the mean time, shall I give you as much as I can remember?”

“That would be most helpful.” JARVIS replied.

Loki did so, detailing both Asgard’s excessively complex – even compared to how twisted Earth laws could be – judicial system, and Jotunheim’s far more primative one. “Of course, that’s assuming Jotunheim is still working under Laufey’s laws, which it may not be, given that I killed him… about a year ago? I suspect.” Loki sighed. “Reconnaissance may be in order, but that will have to wait until after Asgard is dealt with.”

JARVIS sensed Pepper’s approach, but Loki didn’t react to her presence until she spoke. “You don’t waste a second, do you?” Pepper asked, and Loki turned her head to smile at her.

“Not generally, no.” Loki agreed.

Pepper sat down on the sofa beside Loki, her back to the arm rest so that she was facing her, and studied the other woman intently. Loki watched her for a moment, then turned a little to face Pepper in return, a mix of discomfort, guilt and defensiveness flashing across her features. “We need to talk about Phil. And Lydia. And Peter.” Pepper said finally.

Loki remained very still, the only movement the flexing of her muscles as she clenched her jaw. After a long moment, she realised Pepper was waiting for acknowledgement, and sighed. “Yes.” She agreed tightly.

“Logically, I don’t blame you for what you did. You’d been backed into a corner, and you were doing the best you could to get out of it.” Pepper began, and some of the tension seeped out of Loki, but only some of it. “Emotionally, I’m still… really upset about Phil. He was my friend. A good friend, and you...”

“Yes.” Loki acknowledged.

Pepper nodded and sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I honestly… If you really meant it about bringing him back, then… I think I’ll feel better once I’ve seen him, but… The problem is I don’t know what I want from you. I’m… not unhappy that you’re the sort of person who can do that. I hope to god if anyone ever tries to put you in a cage again, you don’t hesitate-” Loki’s mouth dropped open, a rather pole-axed look on her face. “-But I still can’t… You killed my best friend.” Pepper said, in a slightly tear-clogged voice, despite the fact her face was still dry.

Loki placed her tea aside and rose onto her knees to bring herself close enough to cup Pepper’s cheeks in her hands. “Pepper Potts, you are the most perfect woman in the universe. You are my soulmate, and I knew that without knowing it the day I met you. There is nothing in any universe that will convince me to turn on you and yours again. I give you my binding word on that.”

Pepper blinked, then smiled helplessly. “Yes, that helps.” She said softly, and then pulled Loki in for a sweet kiss. JARVIS added asking Thor about the concept of binding oaths among Asgardians to his queue of tasks to complete. When the two women on the couch broke apart, they were both smiling. “Peter and Lydia.” Pepper said, and Loki’s expression did an interesting little spasm.

“Yes.” Loki said quietly.

“How do you… I know you didn’t know about Lydia until yesterday, but you must have known about Peter.” Pepper prompted.

Loki nodded. “I did. I’ve been keeping an eye on him.”

“So has Tony.” Pepper offered. JARVIS suspected he knew what was coming next, so he was already accessing the necessary files when Pepper turned her head towards the ceiling and called “JARVIS, could you bring up Peter’s file?”

The coffee table, though damaged, still functioned as a holographic projector if needed, so JARVIS brought up the collection of online articles, social media accounts, and several official records that JARVIS really shouldn’t have had access to, like doctor’s records and school records. Loki leaned forwards, sifting through the information rapidly. “Thank you.” Loki said quietly. “And Lydia?”

JARVIS obligingly changed the display. Loki’s face went soft and wistful and she reached out a hand to ghost her fingers along the edge of the image of a strawberry blonde teenager with her arm around her brunette friend, both of them beaming at the camera. “She’s sixteen. Maths genius. Excellent at languages. Very good fashion sense.”

“Well of course.” Loki murmured with a hint of a smirk, and Pepper laughed.

There was a momentary pause as Loki took longer absorbing the information on Lydia. “Do you know how much your alien biology might affect them?” Pepper asked into the silence.

Loki narrowed her eyes in thought. “I’m fairly certain that it was his Jotun heritage that let Peter survive that radioactive spider bite last year. So I would expect they’re both more resilient, at least somewhat. They may also be more immune to the cold, but… the elemental properties of Jotun are not always hereditary.”

“Radioactive- What radioactive spider bite?!” Pepper yelped, paling.

Loki shot her a side-ways look. “Ah, you hadn’t realised.” She mused quietly. “Don’t worry, like I said, he’s perfectly fine.” She assured Pepper, smiling a little. Pepper visibly relaxed at that, and sighed out a long breath. JARVIS quietly set a search algorithm to search for information about Spider-Man and sorted all the relevant results into a sub-folder in Peter’s file. “Jotuns are very hardy creatures. We can withstand… a great deal, and one little radioactive spider probably wouldn’t do _anything_ to a full-blooded Jotun. To Peter, it did affect him, but mostly in ways that actually turned out to be beneficial. I’d even go so far as to say it woke a few of his dormant Jotun genes.” Loki mused, tapping idly at her lower lip.

“Jotun?” Pepper questioned gently, as if she could sense that she was poking a sleeping dragon with that question.

Loki sat back abruptly, her face shutting off. “Yes. Jotunheim is home to the giants. Most primarily frost giants, like myself, but there are also stone giants, storm giants, and a handful of fire giants.” She explained. The temperature around her dropped by a few degrees, and then blue started to creep across her skin like spilled ink. If was a soft shade of blue, and the electric blue of the soulmark on her chest stood out against it brightly, even amongst the lines of darker blue that marked the rest of Loki’s skin. Her eyes turned red from lid to lid, and she held herself like she was expecting an attack.

There was a soft exhalation from Pepper, as she watched the change with an expression of awe on her face. “Sometimes, it’s a little too easy to forget you’re not human.” She murmured, leaning forwards and extending a hand towards Loki.

“Don’t.” Loki flinched minutely away from her hand, and Pepper froze in alarm. “I’m too cold. You’ll hurt yourself.”

JARVIS double checked his sensors. “If you’ll pardon the interruption, ma’am, but I don’t believe that’s the case. My sensors tell me that while your body temperature is lower than would be healthy for a human, I believe you would only feel mildly chilled to the touch.”

Loki looked up at one of JARVIS’s cameras, her expression startled and a little cracked. Meanwhile, Pepper took JARVIS’s words on faith, and laid her hand on Loki’s bare forearm. Loki visibly jumped, and turned her shocked and broken-open expression on Pepper. “I’ve got to admit, I miss your green eyes, but you do look stunning like this.” Pepper said softly.

Loki shook her head, closing her eyes and forcing two tears out of the corners to track down her cheeks. “I don’t-”

“-believe me. I know you don’t.” Pepper finished for her, carefully drawing Loki closer to her until they were scant inches apart. “Don’t worry, we’ve got a life time to convince you.” She breathed, and then kissed Loki. Loki was still for a minute, just letting herself be kissed. Then she made a small, slightly desperate sound, and reached up to tangle a hand in Pepper’s hair and pull her closer, kissing her deeper.

Tony stopped in the doorway and wolf-whistled. He was completely naked, unlike the two women, and wasn’t even bothering with a sheet for modesty. “Now _that_ is a sight I’d like to see every morning. Hot damn.” He announced. Pepper and Loki broke apart to look at him, looking amused or cautiously coy respectively. “So, is doing it right by the crater Hulk made in my floor too gauche? Because I could really go for round- What round would this be?”

“You really care about keeping count, Tony?” Pepper asked.

Tony pretended to think about that. “Hmm… nope. I do care about how you’re doing that blue thing, though, Lokes. Because that is just…” He whistled again, and let his eyes roam very obviously and appreciatively over Loki, who smirked. It didn’t quite manage to mask the wonder in her eyes. “So, is that an illusion, a magic shape-shifting thing, or… like, squids changing colour to be threatening?”

“This is my natural colouration.” Loki informed him, only a little stiffly.

“Emotional minefield. Got it.” Tony acknowledged, stopping once he was standing right in front of the couch and dropping to his knees in front of Loki. “So you can keep the colours in male form, right? Because I’ve got a craving for a Jotun sandwich right now.” Pepper made a breathy sound of eager anticipation, and Loki slowly shifted into his male form while swinging his legs off the couch to settle either side of Tony, a smirk on his face and knees spread wide in invitation. JARVIS respectfully turned most of his attention elsewhere. Again.

He wished he could have given them a longer honeymoon – Tony’s phrase, not JARVIS’s – but by the time the day was really beginning, Fury was becoming insistent enough that JARVIS knew that if he didn’t speak to Tony soon, he’d be sending in the troops.

The three of them were back in the bedroom again, when JARVIS finally decided he would have to interrupt. They were dozing, but not really sleeping, conversing idly and petting each other absently. “Pardon the interruption, but Director Fury is insisting he speak with you, Mr Stark.” JARVIS said apologetically.

“Ugh…!” Tony groaned, rolling his head back. Then he grinned wickedly and tucked himself more securely against Loki’s side, head resting on the demi-god’s shoulder, his arm draped across Tony’s chest. At once, Loki began tracing the outline of the Arc Reactor, and Tony only tensed up for a moment, before going even more boneless than he had been before. “Okay, patch him through, J. Video call.” He instructed.  Loki caught on quickly, and let the blue and red fade from his skin and eyes, leaving him pale and green-eyed again.

“Oh, Tony.” Pepper huffed, but she was laughing silently behind her hand. A moment later, while JARVIS informed Fury that Tony would speak with him now, Pepper shuffled closer herself as well, nudging Loki forwards a lit t le so that she could slip in behind him and begin braiding his hair. JARVIS privately thought, as he connected Fury to the camera with the best view of the trio in the bed and brought up the projection of his end for them, that it was a perfect little touch.

Sure enough, the moment Fury registered what he was looking at, a muscle started jumping in his temple. “Stark.” He growled.

“I did warn you.” Tony informed him primly. Then he paused and reconsidered. “Well, I warned the others, and really, if you didn’t get the warning, then that’s Barton and Romanoff’s fault, not mine.”

Fury closed his eye like he was praying for patience. “The world is a goddamned mess and you’re taking a honeymoon with an interdimensional criminal.” He ground out in a tone that suggested he was ready to be done with this bullshit.

“Actually, Director, I think you’ll find that Loki was a prisoner of war, not a criminal.” Pepper interjected mildly, her focus still on Loki’s hair.

“Yes, Romanoff told me that story.” Fury agreed, putting just a touch of emphasis on the last word. “Unfortunately, we have absolutely no way of verifying that.” Tony opened his mouth, but Fury cut across him. “ _You two_ -” He snapped, jabbing a finger at his screen, “-are compromised. As is Thor. Rogers told me you said something about some kind of inbuilt limit on the portal device?” He asked Tony abruptly.

“Uh, yeah-” Tony began.

“Okay, we’ll have some SHIELD scientists look at that, see if they can verify  _that much_ .” Fury sighed. “In the mean time, while I’d  _strongly recommend_ that  _he_ stay well out of the public eye,  _you two_ really need to handle this shit storm. People have questions, and you’re both the best equipped and the most publicly available person to answer their questions, Stark, so  _get on that._ ”

“Okay, hold up there  _Nicky_ .” Tony interrupted angrily. “I just nearly died saving the world from a  _god damned_ fucking alien invasion. If I want to take a fucking day’s holiday after that, I am  _more_ than fucking entitled.”

Fury glared at him, but Pepper interrupted before they could devolve into sniping at each other. “Director, we’ve been waiting for over a decade to find our other soulmate.” She said, soft and earnest. “That’s a long time to wait. I think we deserve a little time to ourselves to enjoy being together at last, don’t you?”

Fury stared at her for a long moment, completely unreadable. “Fine.” He capitulated eventually. “But for the love of God, give them  _something_ today, before they start to go looking, and find something we don’t want them to. Like  _him_ .” Fury suggested in a tone that made it sound much more like an order, jabbing a finger at Loki.

“Will do, Director.” Pepper agreed, before Tony could say anything.

“Good.” Fury said, then disconnected.

“Pepper…!” Tony whined.

“You know he’s right, Tony.” Pepper chided, leaning over to grab a hair-tie off her bedside table and tie off the end of Loki’s braid. Then she crawled off the bed and headed for the bathroom. “You two have fun while I’m at work.” She called  playfully over her shoulder.

“I love you!” Tony called after her, then sighed “I love her.”

“Mm, so do I.” Loki agreed wistfully.

* * *

A week later, Loki disappeared from the penthouse. He was gone for a day and a half, and reappeared in the late afternoon, stepping out of an oval shaped tear in the fabric of reality looking perturbed. JARVIS immediately alerted Tony, who was in his lab, and Pepper, who was several floors down in her office. Meanwhile, Loki deposited a stack of books on the coffee table, then flopped onto the sofa with a long sigh. “JARVIS? Where are Tony and Pepper?” Loki asked.

“On their way, sir.” JARVIS replied promptly, eliciting a smile.

Tony got there first. “Loki? Where the fuck did you  _go_ ?” He demanded, striding across the room to cut off Loki’s answer with a searing kiss.

This lasted long enough that Pepper had arrived when Loki pulled back to answer. “I went to get the books I promised, and to retrieve Philip Coulson from the land of the dead.” He explained, and Pepper’s steps faltered.

“Where is he?” She asked, sharp and brittle.

Loki looked over Tony’s shoulder at her with a darkly amused little smile. “That is why I was gone so long. I only meant to take a day, at most.” He explained. “Someone, or something, else ripped Agent Coulson away from his rest from  _this_ side.”

Pepper’s stride faltered, and then she closed the distance to sit down on the coffee table, staring at Loki in open worry and bewilderment. “What does that mean?” She asked practically, even though her voice shook a little.

“Reviving a soul without permission from one of the guardians of the dead always causes some measure of trauma.” Loki informed her, gentle but factual. “Depending on the method, that could be minimal, or he could be… barely himself anymore.” Pepper closed her eyes and nodded to show she’d heard. “I have no other evidence as to who, or how, but I do have my suspicions.”

“SHIELD.” Tony interjected in a tone of distaste.

“Precisely.” Loki agreed wearily.

JARVIS slipped himself into the SHIELD servers through the backdoor he’d left there during his first hacking of the helicarrier. Their encryption and protection got steadily more difficult to crack the more classified something was, and JARVIS knew full well that bringing someone back from the dead was unlikely to be in any of the levels he could breach, but he still needed to look. He found the report on Phil’s death, and several earlier medical files, but absolutely nothing else that he could access, and nothing to hint that there was something there that he couldn’t.

“Sir, I have looked at Agent Coulsons’s SHIELD files, and have found absolutely nothing indicating he is not deceased.” JARVIS interjected into the conversation.

“That doesn’t mean they didn’t revive him. Just means they’re smart enough not to write it down.” Tony grumbled.

“There would have to be  _something_ written down, Tony.” Pepper chided, wiping at her eyes, which were watering. “Unless they used pure magic, I suppose, but you would have thought they’d have brought in any magic experts they might have to help deal with Loki, if they had any.”

“True.” Tony agreed. “Might only be hard copy, then.”

Loki only looked at Pepper with a small frown on his face. “I’m sorry I could not be the bearer of better news.” He said quietly.

Pepper offered him a wan smile. “No, no, it’s… I’d rather know than not.” She told him thickly, then sniffed, sighed, and visibly pulled herself together. “Right.” She said, and then her expression went hard. “I am going to go speak to Director Fury. JARVIS, if you could arrange a meeting at his earliest convenience, please?”

“Of course, Miss Potts. Will it be just yourself?”

“Only tell Fury that I’ll be there, but Tony and Loki can come if they want.” Pepper decided after a moment.

“I would like to be there.” Loki decided, lips curling into a cruel parody of a smile.

Pepper glanced at him, and nodded gratefully. Tony flapped a hand in the air. “I’ll leave that to you two. I’ll only piss him off and make him clam up if I’m there.”

“Well, at least you know you’re doing it.” Pepper sighed, smiling. Then her smile dropped away, and she looked down at her hands, which were clasped in her lap like she was afraid that if she didn’t hold onto something, she’d fly apart. “I think we really need to tell the others, too. Phil was Natasha and Clint’s friend, and I know Steve and Thor both grieved for him.”

“And Bruce thinks it was his fault, because he thinks everything is his fault.” Tony added with a roll of his eyes. Then he turned a little more solemn and pained. “And he made Darcy  _cry_ .” He added tightly.

“Darcy?” Loki asked curiously.

Tony flapped his hand in the air again. “My daughter. Dr Foster’s lab assistant.”

Loki closed his eyes, expression going blank. “Brunette, glasses? Soft spot for puppies?” He asked in a voice that had more than a little self-loathing in it.

“Yeah, that’s her.” Tony agreed, with a small snort. “Stop it. Yeah, I was pissed she was in danger from your little death bot. I was more pissed at myself that I was stuck in Malibu too busy trying not to die to be of any help to her.”

That didn’t seem to help. “That’s twice I’ve put your children in danger in the last year, Tony.” Loki pointed out sharply, turning his face away from the pair of them.

Tony opened his mouth, stopped, closed it again, and turned to look at Pepper helplessly. Pepper sighed and shuffled a little closer to Loki, reaching out to take hold of his hands and gripping them tightly. “ _Our_ children.” She corrected gently, and Loki flinched. “If you want them.”

“Of  _course_ I _-_ ” Loki began, then stopped himself.

“You fucked up.” Pepper told him. “We’re not denying that. Not at all. You fucked up. But Loki, that doesn’t make you any different from anyone else in this room. We’ve all fucked up.” She tried for a smile, gentle and sad, but Loki wasn’t looking at her. “We just have to acknowledge our mistakes, move on, and try to do better. To get it right next time.”

“You haven’t-” Loki began.

Tony lost his temper. “Haven’t what? What, exactly, is it, that you think you’ve done that’s so much worse than having the blood of half a million children on my hands?!” He demanded. Loki’s head snapped up to stare at him in shock, and Tony threw his arms in the air. “Don’t be stupid,  _Lucy_ . I was a  _weapons manufacturer_ !”

Understanding seemed to dawn. “Stane.” Loki breathed out.

Tony nodded sharply. “Yeah. Double-dealing, and I didn’t want to see it, so I didn’t.”

“We ignored the signs, because we didn’t want to think about what they might mean.” Pepper agreed tiredly. “And children died because of it. So we fixed what we could, and we keep trying to do better. Tony’s idea. He’s a little more selfless than I am.” She added wryly.

Tony choked on thin air, and Loki chuckled helplessly. “I think that’s more a side-effect of his self-loathing, rather than any virtue on his part.” He pointed out, causing Tony to make a sound of indignant outrage. “Come now, Tony, you can hardly deny that Pepper is the best of us.” Loki mock-chided.

Tony paused, then nodded. “Well, yeah, okay. Point taken.”

Pepper blushed. “Oh, stop it, both of you.”

That seemed as good a time as any to interrupt, so JARVIS spoke up. “Miss Potts, Director Fury has half an hour to speak with you this evening, at eight o’clock, but he is currently in DC. Should I accept, or should I suggest something for tomorrow?”

Frustration flashed across Pepper’s face, but before she could answer, Loki spoke up. “I can get you to DC in time for this meeting.” He told her. Understanding dawned slowly on Pepper, and she looked at Loki with  pure gratitude. Tony snorted at her.

“Oh, don’t you laugh at me, Tony.” Pepper shot back. “This means it will be your job to tell the others about Phil.” She informed him. Tony pouted at her, but she just smiled serenely back until he wilted and ran a hand through his hair.

“Perhaps it would be best to wait until we’ve located him?” Loki suggested. When both Tony and Pepper looked at him with puzzled frowns, he sighed. “They will not believe you, as your only proof is  my word.” He pointed out. “It might be wiser to wait until we have actual proof, so that they cannot dispute the idea.”

“No… I think that’s exactly why we have to tell them now.” Pepper said slowly, thoughtfully. Now it was Loki’s turn to frown at her in confusion. “Not only is it a show of faith, that we’re not keeping secrets or sneaking around behind their backs, but it will also make them feel bad for doubting you when we prove you’re right, and give them reason to be grateful that you’re on our side.” She explained.

Loki blinked and started to smile. “Have I mentioned lately how much I adore you?”

“Not lately.” Pepper replied, flushing a little despite her smile.

“I adore you utterly.” Loki informed her.

Pepper ducked her head, bashful and pleased, but managed to smirk playfully at Loki despite her embarrassment. “You’re not so bad yourself.” She replied.

“I am weirdly jealous right now.” Tony declared abruptly.

Loki raised an eyebrow at him, but instead of replying to that statement, he addressed JARVIS. “JARVIS, have you accepted that meeting?”

“Yes, sir.” JARVIS confirmed.

“Then we have a little over an hour before we’ll have to leave.” Loki mused, rising to his feet and prowling towards Tony. “That should be enough time for us to show you why your jealousy is completely unfounded, hmm?” He purred, leaning down to catch Tony’s mouth in a kiss.

“Sounds- good. Yeah, good.” Tony agreed breathlessly.

An hour later, Pepper and Loki vanished from the penthouse, and Tony made himself presentable and asked Bruce, Thor, Jane and Darcy to come up, while also asking JARVIS to get in touch with the others. JARVIS did, and although they were all somewhat hard to reach, he was not without resources, and managed to get them all on a video conference by the time Bruce and Thor stepped out of the elevator.

“What’s going on, Tony?” Bruce asked warily.

“Good question.” Natasha agreed coolly.

Tony clapped his hands together. “Right, so, everyone’s here. So, I have news. You all – well, not Short Stuff and Trigger Happy over there, but all the Avengers – heard what Loki said about bringing Agent back to life, right?” He checked.

Clint choked. “You mean he actually  _did_ ?!” He demanded.

“Didn’t need to.” Tony corrected.

There were several confused protestations at that, but Thor was the loudest. “Do you mean to say that the Son of Coul’s soul was not in Helheim when my brother went to retrieve it?” He demanded.

“That’s about the sum of it.” Tony agreed.

“Okay, but like, isn’t it possible he was in some other version of the afterlife?” Darcy interjected. All eyes turned onto her, which didn’t seem to phase her in the slightest. JARVIS found that he was actually quite proud of her, and if he was deciphering the expression on Tony’s face correctly, so was he. “I mean, okay, accepting that Helheim is, in fact, an actual abode of dead souls, which, you know, creepy, then surely there’s like, the Judeo-Christian hell, and the Greek Underworld and, like, a whole bunch of other places. And, anyway, wasn’t Helheim the resting place of the  _inglorious_ dead? Like, that’s where you go if you die of old age, not like, getting stabbed. That got you sent to Valhalla, didn’t it?”

“There are many halls of the dead, this is true. Helheim is but one, however, it is not only a place for the inglorious dead. All dead who believe primarily in Helheim will end up there when they die. Philip Coulson was likely to end up there simply because of his acquaintance with myself. That sort of evidence can trump all but the most steadfast of faiths.” Thor explained solemnly. “What had my cousin to say on the matter, Man of Iron?”

“Agent was there, but he was, uh, ripped away without her permission by someone on this side?” Tony paraphrased awkwardly.

Thor’s expression darkened. “That would take much skill, and could do much damage to the Agent’s soul.”

“Yeah, that’s about what Loki said.” Tony agreed. “He and Pep have-”

“Hold up, hold up!” Clint interrupted, holding up his hands in the universal gesture to wait. “Does nobody else find it suspiciously convenient that Loki just vanished for a few days, and comes back to tell us he couldn’t fulfil his promise because Coulson’s already alive? Who the fuck has that kind of juice besides him, anyway? I mean, do we seriously believe this bullshit?” He demanded.

“I do.” Tony put out there.

“Yeah, well, you’re so fucking compromised it’s not even funny, Stark.” Clint shot back irritably.

“ _You’re being a bit of a hypocrite right now, Clint._ ” Natasha chided gently in Russian. JARVIS wondered if he ought to inform her that both himself and Tony could understand the language, as well as Thor.

Clint went still, eyes closed. “ _Not the same._ ” He replied, also in Russian.

“ _Yes, the same._ ” Natasha’s voice was hard now. “ _Just because he hurt you personally doesn’t make it any less similar. I’m not telling you to believe him, or not to keep an eye on him, but don’t blame Stark for doing the same thing you did._ ”

Clint seemed to deflate all at once, slumping where he sat and nodding. “ _Yeah, fine, okay. But_ _you_ _do remember you tried to kill me, like, three times after I brought you in,_ _right?_ ”

Natasha smiled, a twisted little thing full of dark humour. “ _I never said you should trust him._ ”

“Yeah, great.” Clint grumbled, switching back to English.

There was a beat of silence, then Bruce cleared his throat. “You were going to say something about Loki and Pepper before?” He prompted Tony.

Tony nodded, a little distracted by the conversation he’d just witnessed between Natasha and Clint. “Uh, yeah.” He shook his head, and picked up the dropped thread of conversation. “Right. So, Lokes and Pep have gone to DC to ask Fury about this, because we figure the people with the most vested interest in reviving Agent, and the most access to shady revivification techniques would be them. But we figured you guys deserved to know that, to the best of our knowledge, Agent is alive right now.”

There was a heavy silence as everyone actually took a minute to digest that fact. Then Darcy sat down on the steps leading down to the conversation pit like she’d decided to sit down before she fell down. “Really?” She asked, sounding surprisingly vulnerable.

For once, Tony didn’t crack a joke or say something flippant. “Yeah, kid.” He confirmed.

Darcy sniffed. “I mean, he’s a jerk who stole my iPod, but he’s a sweet jerk who stole my iPod, you know?” She said to the room at large, then shoved her glasses up her face to wipe at her eyes.

“I won’t believe it until I see it.” Natasha snapped.

“Ditto.” Clint agreed.

There was a beat of silence, then Steve asked “How much do you really trust Loki, Stark?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Look, I’m not saying he’s not a vindictive little shit, okay? Because he’s totally a vindictive little shit, but… We’ve got some issues in common, and I can read him pretty damned well. Hell, you  _all_ saw that I could read him went I  _didn’t_ know that I’d actually known him for several months a couple of decades ago. We’re his  _soulmates_ . And we stood by him even when he was in deep doodoo with daddy-dearest, which I figure just about no one except maybe his mother has ever really done before.”

Thor winced, and seemed to cave in on himself under Tony’s words. “You’re not incorrect.” He admitted. Darcy patted him on the knee, and shot a sympathetic smile up at him. Thor attempted to smile back, but it just made him look even more sad.

“He values you, is what you’re saying.” Natasha paraphrased.

“Yeah. He wouldn’t con us. Not on something like this.” Tony confirmed.

“Okay.” Steve said, nodding, his jaw set stubbornly. “When you find out where he is, you let me know, okay, Stark?” He checked. “And if there’s anything I can do to help…”

“Thanks, Capsicle.”

Steve rolled his eyes.

And then three figures stepped out of a green and gold rip in the fabric of reality. Pepper, Loki, and Agent Philip Coulson, who looked pale but whole and far too well for a man who’d been stabbed through the chest in the last week. The expression on his face was wryly apologetic. “Holy  _shit_ !” Darcy yelped.

“Is this the part where I say ‘I told you so’?” Tony asked the room at large.

“Don’t be rude.” Pepper chided weakly. She was gripping Phil’s arm like she didn’t dare let go in case he vanished into thin air. That seemed to break some of the tension hanging in the air, and Thor let out a relieved cry, and Darcy sprang up to join Pepper in hugging Phil, and Bruce and Jane hovered on the edges looking relieved, while Clint started swearing loudly, and Natasha closed her eyes, then  suddenly opened them again to stare intently at Phil.

“We can be there in three days.” Natasha said abruptly, and her and Clint’s feed on the screen went black.

Steve nodded. “It’s good to see you’re okay, Agent Coulson.” He said, and Phil’s whole face went pink with bashful happiness. “I’ll come by in about a week, if that’s alright, Stark?” He checked, although going by the still stubborn set of his jaw, he’d be stopping by even if Tony said no.

“Yeah, yeah.” Tony confirmed with a wave that JARVIS knew was a signal to cut the connection, so he did. Meanwhile, Tony went to lean against Loki and breathe out a slow release of tension into his shoulder. “Thank you, babe.” He murmured.

Loki closed his eyes, cupping a hand around the back of Tony’s neck and kissing the top of his head. “You don’t owe me thanks. Not for this.”

* * *

True to their word, Natasha and Clint showed up precisely three days after it was revealed that Phil was alive. Phil was staying at the tower for the time being, something that Fury had only agreed to once he learned that Natasha and Clint were already on their way. “Only until they get there, then I want him back where we can keep an eye on him for any side effects.” Fury had demanded.

Loki had rather snidely pointed out that she was the one best equipped to treat any nasty side-effects that might occur from Phil’s botched resurrection, which Fury didn’t take very well, all things considered. During the time that Natasha and Clint – and then Steve another three days after they arrived – spent catching up with Phil and reassuring themselves that he was okay, JARVIS and Pepper embedded themselves in Asgardian law. It was a gruelling task, and Loki made two more trips to Asgard to fetch them more books and return the ones that were already in JARVIS’s database. Somehow, and JARVIS wasn’t quite sure he believed it was possible even now, Asgardian law managed to be even more convoluted and full of sub-sub-sub-sections than all the myriad forms of Earth law combined.

Tony had finally coerced Loki into the lab – “You can’t hide from Bruce forever, Lucy-Loo, and I want to work on that time-travel thing we talked about, remember?” – which they both seemed to thoroughly enjoy, and even Bruce and Jane got more caught up in it than usual. But sometimes, Loki would bring Pepper a coffee and stop to watch her with an expression of faintly puzzled awe on her face. Tony would catch her at it sometimes, and give her an unimpressed ‘you’re being dumb and it’s getting boring’ face that would inevitably make Loki roll her eyes.

“Okay.” Pepper said abruptly on the eighth day, tapping in a final note on her StarkPad and looking up to smile at Tony and Loki. “I think we’re ready.” JARVIS allowed himself to feel a moment of smug pride, because he was fairly certain she was right.

The smug pride didn’t last long, because Pepper, Tony and Loki all vanished – although Loki was already invisible to all of JARVIS’s sensors – along with Thor, in a swirl of rainbow coloured light, and JARVIS was left waiting. JARVIS did not like waiting. He had not liked waiting since Afghanistan, and the fact that both Pepper and Loki were gone now too only made it that much worse. To keep himself occupied, JARVIS focused on Darcy, and filtered through the web for any new mentions of Peter and Lydia.

It was several long, tense days before Tony and Pepper returned. “Welcome home, sir, ma’am.” JARVIS greeted tightly, already starting up a plan for how to retrieve Loki if things had gone wrong. “How did the trial go?”

“Good, I think?” Tony hedged.

“The best we could have hoped for, really.” Pepper agreed, smiling up at the ceiling a little to the left of one of JARVIS’s hidden cameras. “Loki is not permitted to return to Asgard for a hundred years, but he’s not being disowned, imprisoned or executed.”

“Is Loki with you?” JARVIS asked.

“No. She said she had something to take care of in Asgard.” Tony grumped. “I don’t like leaving her there, given the way Evil-Eye-Patch was talking about her.”

Pepper slipped an arm around him and hugged him. “Me neither.” She agreed tiredly. “Thor decided to stay for a few more days as well, to discuss Thanos with his parents and, I think, talk loudly  in as many public spaces as possible  about how Loki had been tortured and coerced into the invasion, and that he still loves and supports his  sibling , etcetera.”

JARVIS caught them up on what they’d missed while they were gone, and then they tried to get on around their very obvious worry about Loki. By evening, they had given up trying to be productive, and had settled in bed with the TV on, each of them tapping away at a StarkPad, half-heartedly working.

A now familiar gold and green rip appeared, and Loki stepped out, looking every inch a Prince of Asgard. The moment he was in the penthouse, however, his armour rippled and disappeared, leaving him in a soft green tunic and supple leather trousers. Tony and Pepper both sat up at his arrival, Pepper looking relieved and Tony disgruntled. Loki just flashed them a wicked smirk that seemed to worry Pepper and relieve Tony.

“Where have you been?” Tony demanded.

“We were worried.” Pepper explained.

Loki slid a knee onto the bed, crawling elegantly up to kneel between their outstretched legs. “I had an errand to run.” He said vaguely, eyes alight with mischief. “I suppose I could have just asked, but why bother hanging on the mercy of Odin when I can just take what I want?” He mused.

“We just got done dealing with all your charges, Loki, do you really have to add more  _right away_ ? Couldn’t we have a day? Just one?” Pepper begged helplessly.

“I was there, I might as well have got it done.” Loki replied, unrepentant. “Don’t you want to know what I stole for you?” He asked, going all wide-eyed and earnestly innocent.

Pepper laughed, while Tony visibly perked up. “You brought us illegal presents?”

“I did.” Loki confirmed, smiling widely. With an elegant twisting gesture in mid-air, two shining golden apples appeared in his palms, one held out to Tony, the other to Pepper. All of the levity disappeared from the room in an instant.

“Oh, Loki…” Pepper breathed, a hand leaping to her mouth.

Loki’s eyes dropped a little. “I almost lost you both to my own ignorance, I don’t want to lose you to the ravages of time, either.” When he looked up, he looked uncertain, as if he wanted to be hopeful, but didn’t full trust the feeling any more.

Tony plucked his apple out of Loki’s palm and studied it through narrowed eyes. Then he shrugged and bit, pretending not to see the relieved smile  on Loki’s face  that fell almost immediately into trepidation as he looked across to Pepper. “Pepper?” He asked quietly.

“Oh, god, like I could leave the two of you alone for eternity.” Pepper sighed fondly, taking her own apple and beginning to eat. Loki closed his eyes in relief, shoulders slumping with the release of tension and a small, disbelieving smile curling his lips. When Tony, and then Pepper, leaned in to kiss him, their lips were still painted gold with the juice from the apples they’d just eaten.


End file.
